Choose the Side of Light
by GingerCherry
Summary: Two Gryffindors are all it takes to change the path history took for a certain individual. Alice and Frank Longbottom were close friends with Bartemius Crouch Jr, his only friends in fact. Basically a Good!Barty fanfic with him helping throughout the series and what happened before Azkaban. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
1. Friends and Family

**Chapter 1: Friends and Family**

 **1974 Alice and Frank**

"What are you working on this time?" Alice asked, picking up the vial marked with an 'x' on the table. "Is this another experiment?"

Barty made a noise that meant that she was right. "I'm trying to figure out how to make a potion that can reverse the effects of polyjuice."

The fifth-year student scoffed at him as she studied the potion. "Why bother? Polyjuice does not last long anyway."

At that, the boy snatched the vial away from her and set it back on the table. "Because I want to." he answered curtly before throwing some knotgrass in the cauldron with an exaggerated display of mock anger. Barty was not really the type to get angry over something so minute and insignificant as a comment, so Alice simply watched him with an eyebrow raised halfway. "Besides, father suspects, but isn't sure, that there is someone in the Ministry that has been using polyjuice for the past- what day is it?"

Alice took a moment to respond, but was immediately interrupted by the second-year boy.

"January 27th, so… three months and eleven days. Give or take."

The cauldron started to boil and a bubble bursted on the surface with a loud ' _pop_ '. Barty quickly redirected his attention and stirred the concoction until the dark purple color changed into a softer velvet.

"Why not use a truth serum on the suspects?"

The boy kept his gaze on the potion and tended to it with utmost care. Only after adding a few shavings of bicorn horn and adjusting the temperature of the heat did Barty glance at his friend. "Are you kidding me? Trying to force an entire department into taking a truth serum would make the imposter aware, and therefore, it gives them time to escape before the reason they infiltrated the Ministry could be uncovered and what they gained from it as a result of it."

"Plus, if your dad's hunch is wrong, it could seriously ruin his precious image." the girl joked.

"That too." The potion sputtered a puff of blue smoke and Barty instantly stepped back from it with a hand shielding his eyes. His face showed defeat and he spoke to it as if it would listen. "No, not again. Come on, work."

"Okay, I have another question." Alice announced, walking over to Barty's side as he frantically stirred the liquid. "Wouldn't an anti-polyjuice raise awareness as well?"

"Not as much as a truth serum." he replied, running back to the table and scanning the ingredients. "Normally, reversal potions are not as strictly prohibited since it does not infringe on personal rights to secrets or health, which means that it could be added to a drink without having to ask the person you're giving it to, as long as you drink it as well and there are no harmful effects. It must have already been tested. It's fair play and has been brought up in court cases a couple times, all of which were just plain stupid, but useful. No one needs to know about it, whereas a truth serum requires that you ask questions that could spread rumors faster than you can say _'Arresto Momentum'_."

Alice nodded at his long explanation and simply made herself comfortable at a chair in the classroom they were currently in. "You sound like an expert."

"When you're the son of a government official, you tend to pick up on a few things." he shrugged and tossed some mint into the cauldron.

The gryffindor groaned and put her forehead on the desk. "Are you almost done? I'm bored."

Barty gave her a look and sighed. "Why don't you go find Frank?"

"Because he's busy finishing his homework in his room. 'Complete and utter isolation' he says. I can't exactly march in and demand his company." Her answer was muffled and he didn't bother to ask her to repeat herself.

"Then find your other friend. You know, the fourth-year with the pretty green eyes and slightly reddish hair?" he suggested, taking a vial of the now teal potion and mixing in a sample of polyjuice. It failed to react in the way he wanted it to and instead emitted an ugly fume.

"Lily? Nah. Don't get me wrong, she's a great person, but she's not that fun to talk to."

"And I am, how?" Barty asked, marking the potion with an 'x'.

"Well, you're interesting. Not every second-year is as brilliant as you are. Plus, I think you could use this little friendship of ours. You haven't exactly tried to make any in your own class for the past two years anyway." she teased, sitting up as he passed her. "Done?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

Barty sighed dejectedly and began packing his things into his trunk. "I really thought I got it this time, but turns out it's just as unsuccessful as the last one."

"But, you're not going to try again?"

"No, that's enough for today." he said with a tone of finality, just as he shut his trunk with all of his ingredients and failed attempts tucked away. "Fifteen- no, sixteen potions and not one that wielded results."

Alice whistled and followed him out the door. "That's a lot of stuff gone to waste. And fancy terms you're using there."

"Shut up."

They went to the Slytherin's common room for the second-year to drop off his belongings. As he went inside with his trunk floating behind him with the help of a levitation charm, Alice waited outside. Barty was careful with the password, saying it quietly to ensure his friend would not hear. She could respect that.

The girl blew the stray strand of hair away from her face, only for it to fall back to where it previously was. Boredom did not suit her well. Severus nodded to Alice when she greeted him as he passed by her. They weren't buddies, but rather acquaintances brought together by a mutual friend, Lily Evans.

"Still in love with the flower?" she called out to him as he turned a corner. Even from the distance, she could have sworn that she heard him scowl.

Barty came back out about a minute after the short encounter. "You wouldn't happen to have any wormwood, would you? I ran out and I need it for a shrinking solution tomorrow."

"Shrinking solution?" Alice inquired, ruffling his hair. "What for? You're already pretty short."

"I'm not short, I'm still growing!" the boy shouted back, indignantly. "And it's for potions tomorrow, not for personal conventions."

"You and your fancy words."

"Oh, shut it."

She held up her hands in defense. "I'm just saying."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Frank wasn't locked in his room for too long, and before they knew it, he had joined the two outside under their favorite tree. It was relatively secluded from the general mass of students and had a great view of the lake. Although the grass was wet from the snowy weather, Alice wasted no time to find a nice, dry spot for them to sit. When she figured that there was none, she promptly casted a quick spell to remedy it. The gentle snowfall was pleasant and it was a nice way to spend their Sunday afternoon.

"-and they just wouldn't stop!" Frank finished, his hands waving wildly at the air above him. His fellow Gryffindor snickered while the Slytherin remained unimpressed. "So, what have you done today?"

"Barty here has been experimenting on an anti-polyjuice potion." Alice answered before the boy, himself, could open his mouth.

"For what?" Frank asked, leaning against the trunk of the tree. "Is it another thing for your dad? Last time, you were trying to create a tracking charm."

"Yeah, something like that." Barty said, staring up at the sky. "It didn't work, though."

"Neither did that tracking charm." Frank winced. "I was hearing sirens in my head for days!"

"But it _did_ work." he quipped. "It just wasn't obscure."

"Obscure, yeah right. If you think that would get you anywhere near whoever you're tracking, you're dead wrong."

"It's still a work in progress."

"I thought you were done!"

"Well, you thought wrong."

"I'm not letting you test it on me."

"I didn't ask to."

"You didn't last time either."

"That's because-"

"Boys!" Alice shouted loud enough for both to flinch. It didn't help them that she had used a _Sonorus_ charm to amplify her voice. Once she got their attention, she stood up and stretched her arms. They watched for a little while as she swung her arms in circles, forward and then back.

A grin slowly imprinted itself on Frank's lips as he got up and mirrored her. Barty, on the other hand, frowned and shrinked back with his knees close to his chest.

"Come on, Barty. One round and we can call it a day." she said, taking out her wand.

"No thanks." he replied stubbornly. He was met with an undignified pout from the young witch.

"It's good practice, Bart. Who knows what could happen when you come across an evil wizard." Frank taunted, stressing the word 'evil'.

"Or witch." Alice added.

"Or witch."

Barty remained adamant, causing both fifth-years to sigh.

"Oh well. I guess it's just you and me, princess." Frank sighed as he took out his own wand. "Again."

"Seems like it." she hummed disappointedly, ignoring the nickname Frank had bestowed upon her the day they met. She held out her arm in a standby position. "Whenever you're ready."

"I'm not going easy on you just because you're a girl, you know."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Longbottom."

"Carrow."

Barty watched absently as Frank shot a disarming spell while Alice flicked it away and fired a spell of her own. The red light was knocked off course and the exchange of tossing and catching accelerated.

The light of the spells lit up the area and reflected across the water. It was only a matter of time before one of them slipped up and was hit by a stunning or binding spell. Frank shot a jelly-leg jinx and only narrowly missed, whereas Alice countered with a tickling charm.

The trio loved duelling. Well, more like Alice and Frank did, Barty often got caught in the crossfire. It did help him get ahead of his year, though. Far ahead. He had learned spells, charms, jinxes, and curses much earlier than was initially planned for his curriculum. Transfiguration, the subject he struggled the most in, was still relatively easy with his seniors' help. By the time his class learned how to turn a beetle into a button, he was working on turning a falling leaf into a butterfly. Living things from inanimate objects was a slightly more difficult than vice versa.

After a couple months of practice, Barty had caught up on enough spells to hold his ground in a duel. It wasn't enough to challenge either Alice or Frank in a one-on-one, but he was getting there.

The flurry of spells increased and made any movement a potentially fatal one. It was Alice who made the first mistake. She realized it as she backed up and tripped on the fabric of her robe. It was not enough to knock her off her feet, but her balance was disrupted. She could have recovered, but it was at that time that her opponent decided to launch a leg-locker curse.

" _Locomotor Mortis!_ "

Her weight shifted and she had no way of correcting herself, meaning that she tipped backwards and fell, the soft but damp floor greeted her. As soon as she landed on the ground, her wand flew out of her hand and rendered her defenseless, marking Frank as the winner.

He kept his wand up for a moment longer, having not yet registered that the duel was over. A slow recognition of his friend on the snow covered grass left him grinning madly. "And the crowd goes wild!"

"Oh, shut it you- anyone want to give me a hand?" Alice grumbled, reaching as far as she could for her wand an arm's length away. "Or do you want me to struggle like a caterpillar?"

Barty smiled a little and got up to retrieve her wand. As he did so, he chanted the reversal spell. " _Locomotor Gentem._ "

Upon receiving her wand, Alice immediately jumped up and threw a jinx at the unsuspecting target. " _Tarantallegra!_ "

Frank had just enough time to turn around after hearing her voice before the jinx took effect. It was a dancing feet spell, and oh boy was he dancing. It was fast and relentless. Frank was bouncing around too much to properly take out his wand from his pocket, which he had put away thinking that there was no use for it for the rest of the day. "Not fair, Alice! I won that duel fair and square, so make it stop!"

Alice smirked and kept the dance going. "Not a chance, Longbottom."

"I'm sorry, okay? Just. make. it. stop!" his eyes then shifted to the other student, his last chance of hope, unless he could miraculously take out his wand or stumble over to someone willing and able to lend him a hand. "Come on, Bart, help me out here!"

The boy just stood there trying to hold in his laughter, much to Frank's dismay.

"I'm begging you!"

Alice twirled her wand in her hand. "Oo, I like that."

"Alice!" he shouted, rather than using the usual 'princess' that he reserved for her, with a hint of hurt in his voice.

"Fine, fine." she huffed, removing the spell. "It was fun while it lasted."

"Bart should have let you crawl." Frank muttered under his breath.

Barty finally broke out laughing. He held onto his stomach and tried to control his breathing, having been only one stage away from losing it and rolling around on the floor. He hadn't had such fun in a _very_ long time. The pair of fifth-years exchanged looks (one of them glared while the other seemed amused), but soon found themselves joining him. One enjoying herself far more than her classmate, who just let out short scoff.

"Alright, guys. It wasn't _that_ funny."

"You're right." Alice chuckled, "It was hilarious!"

"Yeah, yeah. You'd better stop it before Bart gets hurt." Frank warned, tilting his head at the Slytherin, who was having the time of his life. "We wouldn't want to have to explain to Pomfrey that he hurt himself laughing."

As if on cue, Barty stopped. His arms ceased to hug his stomach and he looked up at his upperclassmen. "Sorry." he said, sheepishly. "That was uncalled for."

"It was totally called for. I mean, did you see that footwork? Marvelous!" Alice piped in.

"It better have been. I'm an excellent dancer, if I do say so myself." Frank boasted. Alice raised an eyebrow, to which he added, "As long as I'm not jinxed to dance, thank you very much."

The girl stuck out her tongue and proceeded to taunt him all the way back to the Great Hall.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The time of the impending OWL examinations was closing in, making both Frank (who normally remained aloof toward the subject of tests and examinations) and Alice (who found tests insignificant) worried. Only a few weeks were left until their futures were to be decided.

"What is the spell that changes a boggart's form into what the caster pictures, preferably something humorous?" Barty asked, flipping through the DADA textbook. "You learned it in third year."

"Easy, _Riddikulus_. Give me something harder, Bart." Frank said from behind a potion's book.

"Okay, let's see… The incantation for the spell that sends red flares signalling danger from the caster's wand is?"

Frank looked up from his book with a questioning look. "There's a spell like that?"

"It's a spell we learn in first year." Barty replied with a nod, flipping to another page. "Do you know what it is?"

" _Periculum_." Alice answered from her chair. She was looking through her own books and was jotting down extra notes in the margins. "Right?"

"Correct. What does _Fianto Duri_ do?" asked Barty, continuing the quick spell trivia without stopping, as was requested by the two fifth-year students.

"It casts a shield around the caster." Alice said, earning her a head shake. "What? Wait, but it's a defensive spell, right?"

"It strengthens already casted shields." Frank guessed. His face lit up when Barty nodded. "Hah! One more point for Frank!" he said, clapping his hands together.

"I was close enough." Alice bit back harshly, despite her smile.

The door to the classroom swung open, revealing a girl with auburn hair staring at the trio with confusion. "Alice!"

Frank jolted up, pointing at her with his quill in one hand and pressing his index finger to his lips with the other. "Shhhhh! We're studying!"

"Don't shush her, Frank." Alice chided before dropping her books on the table in front of her and standing up to meet her friend. "How are you, Lily?"

"I'm fine. I thought this classroom was empty." she turned slightly to Frank, who had already gone back to studying. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you three were in here."

"That's okay, don't mind him. He's not bothered by it at all." Alice assured.

"If you keep talking so loudly, then I will be bothered." Frank corrected her, giving her the stink eye.

"Bugger off, Longbottom."

"You bugger off."

Alice spun around with a gasp, faking her disbelief. "You dare?"

"Only as much as you do, princess."

Lily snickered and glanced around the room. She stopped when she noticed the look the second-year was giving her. His eyes shifted from Alice to Frank, and then back to her with a raised eyebrow and the faintest smile. Her lack of response prompted him to tilt his head at them with two sharp motions. Lily glanced at her fellow Gryffindors and mouthed to him "what?"

"What is the effect of the potion 'Amortentia'?" Barty added not so subtly, not yet taking his eyes off of the girl.

Frank groaned and tossed his quill as far as he could away from him, only to have it glide upwards and return to him in a wide arc. "That's a potion, Bart. I thought we told you to test us on spells."

"So? You still have an exam on it."

"Isn't that a love potion?" Alice asked, catching on but missing ultimately. "I think it's covered in sixth year."

"What is this, the Middle Ages?" Frank huffed, completely oblivious. You would think that he had some sort of insight as to why his friend mentioned it, seeing as he constantly calls Alice 'princess'. In reality, the poor guy was as dense as an anvil. "Why would anyone need a love potion in the first place?"

"Oh, I think I know why." Lily answered, although she was not talking to the one who had asked. She was replying to the boy with straw blonde hair. "Maybe it's to get two people to profess their love."

Barty shrugged his shoulders and looked back down to the book he was holding. "But the use of amortentia without consent can be considered illegal- taking into consideration that it has a likeness to the Imperius Curse in a loose manner. My question is if said people would work well with one another and if someone should point it out."

Lily nodded knowingly and crossed her arms with what looked like deep contemplation and thought. "It might have to wait until after the exams. We wouldn't want them to freak out before their futures are determined, especially with it being so close."

"Precisely. And-"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Frank butted in. "And have you two met before?"

"Once, but only in passing." Barty responded, gesturing to the green lining in his robe. "Snakes don't often get along with lions, after all."

Lily thought he was hinting at another factor, but quickly realized that he couldn't have. Severus was her friend just as much as he was Alice and Frank's. The house rivalries weren't particularly damning, but the school could definitely do without it. It was always nice when there was any room for such interactions without seeming completely out of place or conflict-warranting. Plus, he wouldn't have known about the tension that was developing in her relationship with Severus. And the dilemma concerning Severus, and some other members of his house, becoming Death Eaters.

"Especially with the Dark Arts becoming so popular among the snakes." she said. That sentence made the three pairs of eyes stare at her with mixed emotions. Frank and Alice both showed concern and utter speechlessness while Barty's expression was blank. Lily felt the atmosphere tense and tried to take back what she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, no. That's alright. I'm sure no one takes offense." Alice quickly announced to try and remedy the situation. "Plus, it's not like every snake is-"

"What is the incantation of the killing curse?" Barty interrupted. Now, all the eyes were on him and he didn't care.

"That's not on the exam, Bart." Frank said slowly. "Maybe we should stop for today and-"

"None of you know." he continued, ignoring his friend's comment. "Yes, I'm a snake. But I promise you, I'm not like that. Not every Slytherin is like that."

He then took out his wand and held it up to examine. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lily stand back with her hand reaching into her pockets for where her own wand was undoubtedly waiting.

"Yew with dragon heartstrings. From what I have heard, this would be the type of wand that would most likely incline to the Dark Arts." he paused to take in the reactions of the others.

Frank was waiting to see where this was going.

Alice was watching him with calculated worry.

Lily, however, was afraid.

That's when Barty put his wand away and locked eyes with her. "But you have to trust me that the wand is not in control. I am. I will dictate where I'm going in life, not the fact that I'm a pureblood Slytherin wizard in possession of a yew wand."

He got up and walked over to Frank's desk, returning the book he was holding.

"I'm a Crouch, after all. It won't do to sully the family name." he added as an afterthought.

Alice regained her composure and leaned against the table in front of her. "Gotta love the fancy terms."

"Shut up." Barty said, tossing the book in her general direction, which missed by a long shot and somehow managed to land on the chair three rows down from her.

"Oi, watch it, Bart!" Frank warned, standing from his chair. "What did the book ever do to you?"

"It was insulting me." he bit back sarcastically, summoning it back just to use it to smack the fifth-year's head. "Stop laughing."

"Fine. By the way, what _is_ the incantation for the killing curse?" Frank asked, poking Barty in the ribs lightheartedly. "I might need it in case I fail my OWLs."

"Oh, no. That won't do. If you die, I'll revive you just to kill you myself." Alice chimed in, putting away her belongings and faux casted the presumed curse with her fingers, to which he responded by playing dead in the most dramatic way.

Lily witnessed the previous scene dissipate as the trio acted like none of it had ever happened. Alice and Frank brushed the entire ordeal off like it was a normal occurrence, but judging by their original reactions, it wasn't. They trusted their friend enough that he would make the right choices should the time to choose come.

Maybe she should trust her own Slytherin friend, too.

-.-.-.-.-.-

It was at the end of the school year when Alice and Frank finally got together and officially began dating. Barty was making snide remarks each time they so much as held hands, bursting like a sarcastic bean bag filled with unnecessary comments whenever they kissed, even if they thought he wasn't looking.

"What is the effect of the potion 'Amortentia'?" Barty asked them with a not-so-evil-but-still-evil grin.

The three, plus a quiet Ravenclaw, were in the same coach as they left Hogwarts behind for their summer vacation. The Ravenclaw, who was in her seventh year, stared blankly out the window and did not care for whatever the trio talked about. She did, however, hum or snicker from time to time.

"Stop it, Bart. I get it." Frank groaned and covered his face. "I swear, you are the most annoying prick I've ever met. And I've met the Marauders! You're more annoying than the four of them combined!"

"I hardly find that possible." he countered. "Besides, who was it that got your head stuck in a pumpkin for three hours?"

"I think it was James. Or was it Sirius?"

"And who got you out?"

Frank sighed dejectedly. "You. But, you get what I mean!"

"I haven't the faintest clue." Barty said innocently, although both could tell his 'innocent' facade was not working well in his favor.

"Quit teasing us, Barty. If this keeps up, I'll go mad! We might have to break up just to get you to stop." Alice complained next to Frank, burying her head in her arms.

"No." Barty gasped. " You wouldn't. I've been trying so hard to get you two to notice ever since your OWLs! No, wait… since we've met!"

"Speaking of which," Frank cut in, elongating his pause to catch Barty's attention. "We passed all the ones we need. The scores came out not too long ago, and we passed."

"We can become aurors!" Alice exclaimed, looking up from her arms for the first time since the beginning of the ride. "Imagine us: Alice and Frank, braving the world of dangers."

"It suits you both." Barty commented.

The train came to a stop at Kings Cross Station, where the trio said their goodbyes and see you laters.

"I'll be sending letters and expecting replies!" Frank called out as he left the platform with his parents. His mother gave Alice a once over and completely ignored Barty, something he wasn't very keen on.

"I think they like me." Alice whispered, fiddling with the handle of her trunk. "They seem nice."

"Not Mrs. Longbottom." Barty corrected. "She had a judging look on her face."

"I don't know." she shrugged. She then commenced her search for her family, scanning all the heads around her. "Oh, I see my mum." Alice ruffled his hair and lifted her trunk. "Bye, Barty. I'll see you next year."

"Yeah. Bye, Alice."

Barty watched the fleeting backs of both of his friends as they went their separate ways. Even after a short time, he had already begun feeling lonely.

There was no way his father was planning to pick him up if he didn't even bother to remember that he existed. His mother was in no better position, seeing as how she was in St. Mungo's. It was highly unlikely that Winky, the Crouch family's house elf, would be allowed to leave the house. This all meant that a Ministry member was waiting for him, not anyone from his family.

As always.

Barty searched for the one man that he could think of, an auror named Alastor Moody.

The man was roughly two heads taller than he was and wore the rudimentary uniform assigned to all aurors with a trench coat over it. When Barty caught sight of him, he couldn't help but notice the bags under his eyes.

"Ready to go, lad? Good, come on." he mumbled, not giving him any time to respond.

"Thanks, Moody. Can we stop by Diagon Alley before we head home?"

"I've got a job to return to, if you haven't noticed." he growled. When Barty sighed, he gave in with a "We probably have enough time for one stop."

The boy grinned as he hobbled behind him with his trunk dragging on the ground. "Thanks, Moody."

 **1974 Alastor Moody**

Barty finished his school work within the first month of summer, which left him with nothing to do except for the occasional letters from his friends from Hogwarts and the few times Alastor Moody stopped by to visit. The visits were never for him, mind you. They were always to give something to his father during the hours he was out of work, yet still locked up in his office. The auror did, however, stay behind for a few minutes to chat with Barty, despite constantly reminding him that he had work to do.

"You know, I managed to come up with a tracker spell this year." Barty flaunted. "No incantation."

"Impressive, lad." Moody grinned. "But I bet you've never tried catching a criminal in the dead of night, right in the middle of enemy territory."

"I can't say that I have."

"Well, that's what I do for a living." he grinned, then checked the time. "Time to go. See you later, lad."

They met in a similar fashion during the summer between his first and second years at Hogwarts. It wasn't until he arrived with reports, as usual, while Winky was cleaning the sides of the chimney that Barty met him face-to-face.

Winky had yelped and knocked over a vase, shattering it on the floor next to her. Moody had taken it upon himself to clean the mess up, using a simple ' _reparo_ ' on the broken porcelain and a ' _scourgify_ ' on the the stone chimney.

"Winky?" Barty called from his room, having heard the sound of the vase crashing on the floor. "Are you okay?"

"I is fine, Master Barty." she shouted back across the halls.

"Who was that?" Moody asked the house elf. "Did Mr. Crouch get… younger?"

"Oh. He is Master Crouch son, sir."

"Who are you talking to?" Barty inquired, coming down the hall. "Is it father?"

When he came into the room, he stared at the unknown wizard with a disappointed expression.

"I guess not."

"You must be Mr. Crouch's son. I didn't know he had a child."

"Not many people do, apparently." he agreed. "Father rarely ever speaks of me unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Alastor Moody." the man greeted, holding out his hand. "And you are?"

"Bartemius Crouch." he replied, shaking the offered hand. When the man raised an eyebrow, he included "Junior."

"Ah. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with your father."

"He's in his office, as usual. I'll see you around, Alastor Moody."

Ever since then, their run ins became more frequent. Sometimes, when Barty visited the Ministry, he stopped by the Auror Department just to say hello (and to annoy the man). When Alastor was in the neighborhood, he would come around under the pretense of giving Mr. Crouch an update on his search for criminals, when in reality, he was getting back at the boy.

-.-.-.-.-.-

During the first half of August, when Moody went to the Crouch residence as he so often did, he brought with him a new trunk that was bigger on the inside. It was a gift he picked out for Barty's birthday, a little detail he failed to share so Moody found out on his own. (And by 'on his own', it meant the owl that ran into him two days prior from a person named Alice Carrow wishing Barty the "happiest of birthdays and I promise, I'll give you your present when we get back to Hogwarts.")

"This is for you." he said, handing over the trunk before stepping through the entrance.

"Thanks… what for?"

Moody gave him a questioning look and shook his head. "Isn't it your birthday today?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah. It is." he murmured. "Thank you."

While the conversation may have started with a touching moment with Barty staring wide-eyed down the opening of the trunk, it quickly transformed into their normal talk of progress and how they'd been doing for the past few days.

"I caught a guy trying to smuggle in dragon pelts from the east. I have to say, not as interesting as my other cases, but it's something and it's recent." Moody said over a cup of tea. "What have you been doing all summer?"

"I finished a project I'd been working on since early this year. It's an anti-polyjuice potion, although it does have some undesired side effects."

Moody looked up from his cup and leaned back on the armchair. "How about that tracking spell?"

"I don't know if it's getting any better since I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school." Barty shrugged. "I can still practice it in my head, but the repercussions are unknown, if there are any. It should be near perfect, though."

The man took out his wand and set his cup on the coffee table. "How do you do it?"

Barty blinked a few times before processing his words. Then, he grinned and hopped off the couch. "You need to have a visual connection with your target before casting and the movement is rather simple. You have to visualize a map with a dot on it. Imagine that dot has a name."

Moody creased his eyebrows and stared at him with uncertainty, but did as he was told.

"Okay, now an incantation should be used to guarantee the spell to work, but I haven't exactly come up with one yet. It makes it a bit harder, but it still works."

"Choose a word in Latin." Alastor said, interrupting the motion he was supposed to perform. "Most spells are in Latin."

"I don't know any words in Latin, aside from those borrowed in English, so that doesn't really help." Barty snorted.

"Vestigium."

"Vesti- what?" He thought about it and formed an 'o' with his mouth. "That'll work."

"Alright, then." Moody grinned, proceeding with the wand movements and picturing what Barty had told him to picture. He ended it with the wand tip pointing at the cup on his table and chanting the newly coined incantation. Almost instantly, in the corner of his mind, information on the cup's whereabouts popped up. He only needed to think about it in order to get the details. "This is _genius_ , Crouch!" he awed, staring off into the sea of invisible information so similar to a dot on an incredibly well drawn map.

"It lasts for a while. At most, up to four days, I think. But the added words might bolster its results."

They stopped talking when they heard the door to Mr. Crouch's office opened with a creak and a moan. The man entered the room looking no better than a burnt out candle. "Oh, Alastor. I didn't expect you until evening."

"I didn't plan on coming so early, I apologize." he said quickly and bowed his head a little. "Your son was just teaching me a new spell."

"Is that so…" Barty bit his lip as his father glanced at him. "And what did he teach you that you did not already know?"

"Something I came up with myself, father." he answered, gaining the man's full attention. "And I was hoping I could show it to you. It could help you with the-"

"I doubt it would."

Moody's eyes widened at the reply and watched as Barty tried to recover his words. Alastor spoke up when he noticed the boy opening his mouth to say something but closing it without giving himself another chance. "It works brilliantly, Mr. Crouch. If you would allow him to show you, then-"

"I believe it is time you returned to work, Alastor."

He shut his mouth the same way the boy had done. When he opened it once more, it was to say "Yes sir." Nothing more, nothing less. Moody didn't so much as glance at Barty as he went for the door, not wanting to see the rest of his reaction. He did, however, whisper "Happy Birthday, lad" before closing the front door behind him.

From then on, Moody's visits came to a stop and Barty guessed his father had something to do with it, since he had begun to work at the Ministry for longer hours. Doing so meant there was no reason for Moody to come by the house when he could just speak with the man at their workplace.

It wouldn't be until six years later, at a certain trial, that the two met again.

 **1974 Mother**

Once that summer in mid-July, Barty and his father went to St. Mungo's to visit his mother. She'd been terminally ill for as long as he could remember. That was the first time that year that he had be with both of his parents.

Mr. Crouch sat silently to the side and stared at his wife as she smiled at them both.

She was the one to break the silence in the end. "My, my. Why must we greet each other with such sorrow?"

Barty stood by her bed as she tried to get up. With a gentle hand, he helped her.

"Thank you, dear." He smiled and remained standing. She sighed at their stubborness and held her son's hand tightly with her left. "How are you doing in school?"

"Um. I'm doing well."

She frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not what I want to hear. How are you fitting in? Do you have any friends? You've never talked to me about them before."

Mr. Crouch cleared his throat, pulling her eyes from the boy to him. "Enough of that. How are you doing? Are you getting better? Do you _feel_ better?"

The woman hummed as she thought. "I'm much better now that you two came to visit me. It does not suit me well that my husband and my son so rarely come by." she replied, booping said son's nose. "As for my health," she continued in order to stop the man from speaking. "The doctors say that I can be home for Christmas. But that is so far away…"

"Don't push yourself, sweetheart. You can take as much time as you need to recover." Bartemius Senior said, moving closer to the bed. "We can wait."

"But _I_ can't." she spat. "I don't want to stay here for the rest of my life. I want to be with my family. I want to be with you two! But this- this sickness is ruining that." She calmed herself a little before continuing. "I wish you would visit more often. I understand that you have work and Junior has school, but I…"

"I know." he whispered as he held his wife's right hand in between his. "I know." he repeated, before kissing her forehead.

"I can't wait for Christmas." she said in a voice that was barely audible. "I can't wait until I can be with both of you again."

"Neither can I, mother." Barty replied, hugging her arm affectionately. "There is so much I want to show you."

For a moment, time stayed still for them. The family held hands, said a few encouraging words, and enjoyed their reunion. The woman fell asleep at one point with a smile was plastered on her face. Neither the boy nor the man bothered to wake her and took it as a sign to leave.

Barty briefly wondered if she would ever get better, but that option seemed to have been lost years ago. Mr. Crouch pulled himself away from his wife's hand and laid her back down on the bed in a comfortable position. He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath and thought to himself how terrible it would be for her to have her last breath without him being there with her during her last moments.

Steeling himself, he turned and walked out the door, his son following close behind.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Junior!" the woman with straw blonde hair called out. She swooped down and picked up the six month old baby before he could burn himself with the fire for the cauldron. "Don't touch the fire."

He blinked and held onto her robe. "Mahmuh?"

"Fire hurts, my little hippogriff. I don't want you to get hurt." He giggled and found himself highly intrigued by her hair.

She smiled at him and left her potions room, a place she loved to spend her time in experimenting on new concoctions. She sat down next to her husband and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Don't overwork yourself, dear."

The man ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed loudly at his paper. "The deadline is tomorrow and this is driving me insane."

"We can't let that happen, now can we?" she scoffed, pecking him on the cheek once more before heading to the kitchen. "I rather like you sane."

"And I'd like to keep my sanity in one piece just as much as you do." he retorted, looking up just as she moved out of sight.

The woman flicked her wand at the stove and set a pan on the heat. Oil, seasonings, tomatoes and other ingredients flew into the pan and simmered on its hot surface. Winky, the house elf, entered with a broom in her hands and quickly discarded it in favor of helping her master's wife prepare a meal.

The woman placed her son on his highchair and began setting up the table. She had just managed to distribute the food on four plates when a wave of nausea hit her. The pan hit the floor and she collapsed on the ground. Her breathing was uneven and the temperature in her body was rising.

The boy, surprised by the noise and sudden movement, cried. Winky was already at the woman's side, tending to her as she awaited the arrival of her master.

The man came in groggily, having been angry to have his work be disturbed. His eyes widened when he saw his wife on the floor. His heart stopped. He was not ready to lose her. Not yet.

She was taken to St. Mungo's immediately, where the experts diagnosed her with blood malediction; a lifelong, debilitating, and sometimes fatal curse passed down from her ancestor. How she had only had symptoms showing at that time, and not far earlier in her life, was something of a concern.

"It might have been stimulated by performing something taxing on her body, like giving birth." the doctor said with a clipboard in his hands. "It has reached a stage of fatality, sir. I'm afraid that it's only the matter of time until she-"

"Are you sure you cannot cure it?"

The doctor lowered his head and spoke softly. "Not with today's medicinal magic, but we can try, sir." Of course, that meant that she was not allowed to leave the hospital without the proper equipment and personnel capable of assisting her. It was likely that she would never step foot outside the hospital again.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Barty opened his eyes and stared at the roof. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming of and he didn't particularly care to know. It was vague and blurry, as if it were seen through the eyes of a baby who was still fascinated by his fingers and toes to the point of testing if he could fit them in his mouth.

" _Dormio Somnus._ " he recited, pointing at the ceiling as if he were holding his wand. " _Engorgio. Reducio. Accio. Depulso. Lumos. Nox. Obliviate._ " His index finger stopped midway from completing the wand movement. He inhaled and exhaled, letting his hand fall from its outstretched position.

School was starting again relatively soon and his days of doing nothing by himself were coming to an end. The sweet, methodical routine of a Hogwarts student had not left his mind and he was itching to return.


	2. Skipping Through the Years at Hogwarts

Chapter 2: Skipping Through the Years at Hogwarts

* * *

1974-1975, Third-Year

Third year was not going to be any more difficult than the year before, at least, not in Barty's mind. Of the things he was looking forward to, joining the Slytherin quidditch team was definitely near the top. One of the chasers were leaving Hogwarts and the spot was left open for the taking.

"Barty!" Alice shouted from across the platform, running up to him with a tired huff. She looked about ready to collapse. Her trunk floated behind her and landed with a soft thump, the cage covered with a large tarp trembled on top of it.

"You got an owl." Barty said lamely.

The girl shook her head and caught her breath. "I have your present." she corrected. "I know you don't have an owl and I'm probably not going to be able to get you a Christmas present… or a present for your next birthday, but that's okay because now you have an owl!"

The boy blinked at looked at the cage, which ceased to flutter and sat contently on top of Alice's belongings. "I don't-"

"Know what to say?" she interrupted. "Say thank you. Also, Frank should be arriving soon. Apparently, he spent a lot on his gift for you. You might not be getting stuff from us in a while."

"Oh… okay. Thank you."

"And speaking of which, where is that idiot? The train will be leaving soon."

Barty shrugged and listened to Alice rant about her summer and the letters, or lack thereof, sent by Frank. The train released a puff of smoke and a shrill noise from its horn, signalling its soon departure. The parents on the platform waved and said their goodbyes to the children, sending them off with a friendly kiss or a hug. Most students had already boarded when Alice found her boyfriend running up to them.

"Alice!"

"There better be a reason for this, Longbottom." she warned. "Three letters. Three letters! You said you were going to explain, so explain!"

"I know, I'm- OW!" he winced as he gingerly poked the newly formed bruise on his forehead. He was met with a short kiss to the cheek immediately after. "Wha- what?"

"Get on the train, Longbottom."

"I- yes, princess." he teased, jumping into the mode of transportation before Alice could smack his head again. His trunk followed him inside, shaking uneasily as it did so.

"You should work on your spellwork, Frank." Barty said as he entered the train after Alice.

"As if I could in the first place, Bart. I'm sixteen and I'm still 'underage'. I can't go casting spells in the summer outside of Hogwarts unless I'm told to, and trust me, I really wanted to." he directed the last part to Alice, who scoffed and pushed him forward.

"Let's go find a coach before we have to share with someone we don't know." she ordered more than suggested.

Barty smiled at them and pulled his expanding trunk, the one Moody gave him for his birthday, behind him. "That's how you met me, wasn't it?"

Miraculously, they found an empty coach and Alice forced Frank to explain the absent letters.

"Auror training?" Alice asked incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"I am! My dad got a sponsor for me from the Ministry. I helped him with his work and all. When I wasn't working on auror stuff, I had to do school work. I barely had any time to write to you at all!"

"Who is it?" Barty piped in, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "I might know them."

"Alastor Moody." Frank answered dismissively. "He gets the worst cases ever, and a lot of them. A lot of the worst cases. Absolutely boring, but informative."

"Right, so when exactly did you find out?" Alice inquired, playing with the folds of her robe. "You couldn't have told me in your letters?"

"I wanted to tell you in person, princess! Also, I found out the moment I left King's Cross. I couldn't have told you earlier."

"And you wanted to wait this long to tell me? Fine."

The rest of the train ride to Hogwarts went along pleasantly. The food cart stopped by once, leaving after selling two chocolate frogs and a cauldron cake, and they arrived at the school in no time.

"By the way, I got you a present." Frank said, digging into his trunk and fishing out the wrapped gift. "Since you said there was a spot open on the Slytherin quidditch team, and you love quidditch, I figured you wanted to try out for the spot. There's no way you can play on one of the school brooms, those are too old."

Barty picked through the words and looked down at the unmistakable shape of the gift. "No way."

"Yes way. This just means I'll be wanting a present just as expensive."

Alice hummed and took the tarp off the cage. "I may as well give you my present now, then. I was waiting for after the opening ceremony, but now is a good time too."

The owl hooted and flung itself away from the bright light, covering its eyes to let them slowly adjust. It peeked at the three students and tilted its head to the side as if it were too heavy.

"You got him an owl?" Frank asked, a smile pulling at his lips.

"Yes, I did. Unlike me, neither of you have an owl. Poor Opal is tired after this summer." she retorted. "Personally, I think my gift is better than a broom."

"I don't know about that. It's a Nimbus 1980, the fastest broom on sale. It's second only to the brooms used by professionals."

"I like them both. Thank you." Barty said, putting the broom with his other belongings. He reached out to the cage on top of Alice's and brought it closer to him. The owl hooted at him curiously.

Alice ruffled his hair and grinned. "You're welcome. Now let's go to the castle before the train takes off with us in it."

"You know it won't, princess." said Frank, who got up anyway and was the first to leave the coach. He charmed his trunk, and his friends', to levitate behind them as they left the train station.

The first year students traveled across the lake while those that have already completed at least one year rode in by carriages. Nothing pulled them, which meant they were enchanted by some spell or charm Barty was sure he'd learn at one point in his education. The trio squeezed into a carriage with fellow peers varying in houses and years.

Soon, the great big feast began with a proper amount of gusto. The trio split off to join their respective houses and dropped off their things in their common rooms.

"You're trying out for quidditch?" a roommate, named Regulus, asked, holding up Barty's new broom. "Have you ever flown before besides in our first year?"

"No, I haven't. But it can't be much harder than before, could it?"

"I don't know if you should." said Regulus. "Seriously. Most of those on the team bought their way in. Unless you're really good at flying, I don't think you stand a chance."

Barty snatched the broom from Regulus's hands and threw him a look. "Thanks for being so supportive, Black."

"I'm being realistic, Crouch." Barty grimaced at the name.

Barty's great horned owl, whom he named Aldwyn, fluttered on his perch, reminding his owner that he was still there.

"And you should really bring your bird to the owlery." Aldwyn flapped his wings as if in agreement.

"And why don't you go the the great hall? The feast will be starting soon." Barty countered.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The tryouts for the spot on the team was almost exactly how Regulus predicted it would be. The people who came were prepared with a stash of money figuratively spilling from their pockets. Yes, Barty's family was fairly well off, but he doubted that his father would willingly give him money for something like joining a quidditch team.

"Alright, let's see which of you is quidditch material." said the captain. She was made the head of the team two years ago, rather than the one who most recently left due to his lack of dedication to quidditch. She looked in Barty's general direction and grinned. "I'm not letting just anyone join. Whoever is on my team must be dedicated to the practices and work toward teamwork. Communication and your relationship with your fellow fliers are crucial in a game against the other houses."

A few of them snickered, making her stop dead in her tracks.

"You can leave. All of you." she growled.

Barty opened his mouth to say something, just as many others were, but decided against it. A couple mean curse words were thrown around, resulting in the further anger in the captain.

"You three, out!" she shouted, pointing at the loudest of the bunch. "You too, mister! Don't think I didn't hear you!"

By the time she managed to shoo off the people she didn't like, less than half were left on the fields.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes. Do not expect to buy your way in. The previous captain may have been spoiled by your money, but not me."

With that revelation, more people left the field. Barty stood with his mouth opened as the many initially interested students just went back to the common room without a fight, not even the older Slytherins. Maybe because the captain was a prefect?

Only Barty remained after the captain's speech, since she continuously dismissed people who so much as stared off into the sky for too long (and failing to answer her questions) and they generally got pissed and left on their own accord.

"And so the pipsqueak remains." the captain said. "What days are we meeting on?"

"Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays.." Barty answered.

"Time?"

"After dinner."

The sixth-year smirked and held out her hand. "Welcome to the team. I'm Emma Vanity."

"Barty." he replied, shaking it. "I thought the tryouts would require, I don't know, flying."

Emma nodded with a lighthearted chuckle. "Normally, that would be the case. But you're the only one here, so you got the spot. That doesn't mean you're not off the hook, though. I expect to see some flying if you're planning on playing chaser." she said, picking up her broom and holding the quaffle under her arm. "Well? Get flying. Let's see what you can do."

Barty sat on his new Nimbus and took off into the sky. It was just as easy as it was in his first year, if not easier. He flew in loops and circled high above Emma.

Vanity then flew into the sky with the quaffle in her right hand. "Catch!" She shouted before throwing it.

Barry reached his hands out and caught it, nearly falling off his broom as he did so.

"Careful, pipsqueak! Now throw it back to me!"

Barty was not so great at aiming, meaning the quaffle spiraled to the right of Emma, forcing her to move to catch it.

"That's not good. Try again!"

The quaffle was tossed back to him for another shot. Barty calculated his throw. And aimed just a little more to the left. He tried again and it didn't go too far off. Emma grinned and kept tossing it back for another shot.

They continued for what felt like a quarter of an hour before Emma told Barty to move while throwing. They practiced until he could throw and catch the quaffle with relative ease and precision. He was learning fast, as he always did, and they ended 'tryouts.'

"Nice work. I'll see you again on Thursday. Don't be late."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Time passed quickly, and just as quickly, school work began piling up. Quidditch was becoming second nature to Barty and he was making friends with some of his house members for once. Before he knew it, it was Christmas and everyone was either getting ready to return home for the break or staying behind at Hogwarts. This was the first time Barty went home at that time of year during his stay at Hogwarts, having looked forward to spending time with his mother outside the hospital.

Alice and Frank were planning on staying behind at the castle to practice spells and prepare for their NEWTs the next year.

When Barty got home, he was welcomed by Winky, as was the usual, and was told his mother would be arriving soon.

"Thank you, Winky." he said as she gave him a cup of tea. "Care to join me?"

She looked delighted to and sat with him, talking to him about her time while he was away.

"I is keeping the house clean! You happy?"

"Very. Good job, Winky." he answered, taking another sip as she beamed and dusted the sofa.

The fireplace ignited in a green flame, causing both Winky and Barty to jump with anticipation. In mere seconds, Mrs. Crouch was standing before them.

"Junior!" she grinned, wobbling over to give him a hug. He quickly took to her side and supported her over to the couch. "It's so great to be home."

"I agree."

She looked up to see Winky holding a broom to sweep up the already cleaned floor. "Winky, could you fetch me a cup of tea?" The house elf nodded ecstatically and ran off into the kitchen, returning in a few short seconds with a hot cuppa.

"The doctors will be coming for daily check ups in the mornings and at night." she said, taking the hot cup in her hands. "I remember when you were little and could fit on my lap."

"Is there anything I can get for you, mother?" Barty asked, getting up only to stop when she latched onto his arm.

"Stay, junior. Tell me about your time at Hogwarts, how you are doing in school, or your quidditch hobby." she said, not letting go even when he sat back down. "I got your letter, after all, and you barely mentioned anything. You cannot leave out a single detail."

Winky had already left by the time he told her about his new spell, potion, extra curricular, and more. All of his academic achievements were told and he mentioned the new owl to her. She listened intently and did not interrupt a single time. Once he mentioned the ministry, she spoke up.

"Are you planning to become a Ministry official?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, then added a laugh to ease her unapproved expression. "Of course, mother. I want to help father with his work. You know how busy he can get."

"That's good. Speaking of which, where is your father?"

"Still at the ministry."

She frowned and sank deeper into the couch. "I see."

"I'm sure he will arrive soon. Maybe if I go and-"

"That will not be necessary, junior. This just means I'll spend some more time with you."

They spoke about other things, Mrs. Crouch did the majority of the talking. She talked about the gossip circling the hospital about affairs and the rising popularity in the Dark Arts.

"Never be like that, junior. It will only get you into trouble." she said.

* * *

1975-1976, Fourth-Year

Quidditch was the same as always (Slytherin won the inter-House Quidditch Cup the year before) and Emma pummeled everyone into working extra hard for her last year at Hogwarts. Alice and Frank were studying like crazy for the NEWTs examinations and were constantly in the library asking Barty to test them.

"How did you not know that Pepper-Up Potions are used to cure colds? It even makes steam come out of the drinker's ears!"

"Know-it-all." Frank glowered, holding up the potions essay. "You and your perfect grades. You don't know the stress of taking the OWLs, much less the NEWTs."

"Are you suggesting I lower my intelligence?"

"I'm suggesting that you put yourself in our position, Bart!"

"Boys!" Alice hissed at them, putting a finger to her lips. "We. are. in. a. library!"

"Then cast a privacy charm, princess." said Frank, who was met with an angrily thrown scroll of parchment.

"Seriously, grow up."

"Yeah, Frank. Grow up." Barty smirked, crossing his arms.

"Both of you." added Alice.

Frank grinned and stood from his seat to stretch his back. "What's next? What spell should I know but don't?"

"All of the protection spells, probably, since you are planning on becoming an auror."

"Alright, let's see. Protego Totalum, Protego Horribilis, Protego Maxima, Salvio Hexia, Cave Inimicum, and Repello Inimicum. Am I missing anything?"

"Fianto Duri." said Alice. "The spell that strengthens already casted shields."

"Oh yeah."

Aside from their regular study times, they hardly met up with one another. Frank and Alice became more buddy-buddy with the Marauders than they ever did before, leaving Barty with the not so pleasant company of Slytherins like Severus Snape and Regulus Black. Emma was a good captain, but she was not so nice off the fields.

So doing what he knew best at that point, Barty picked up on his studies and began rummaging through a list of useful spells and potions to know but had yet to be invented.

"Care to join us?" Regulus asked him one night in the common room. "We're making a gang and I was wondering whether you would want to-"

"I don't see the point of it." Barty interrupted, not once looking up from the essay he was writing. Divination was not his best subject. Then again, he could drop it in favor of studying his other subjects that don't include the requirement of using a time turner. He could use that extra time to sleep or do other such things.

"But you didn't let me fin-"

"I don't care about this 'gang' of yours, Black. I'm busy enough as it is."

"I'd think it was because you're afraid of getting in trouble with your parents. Or because it'll ruin your perfect reputation." Severus drawled from behind him.

Regulus looked at the essay and read the first few sentences. "That isn't due until, what, next month?"

"Next week, actually."

"You have plenty of time!"

The quill stopped scratching the parchment and Barty heaved a sigh. He looked at the two and stood up so that they were meeting eye-to-eye. "I do not want to join your gang. I am not interested. And I will not change my mind by you standing there. So leave me alone before I jinx you."

Emma overheard the row and came over, a liquorice wand stuck between her teeth. "What are you doing?"

"Telling them to scram."

Her pupils narrowed into slits and she head turned to face the two black-haired boys. "You are not bothering my chaser, are you? We have a match coming up against Gryffindor and I sure as bloody hell don't want to lose to those prats."

"No ma'am." Regulus all but saluted, rushing off to the other side of the common room to avoid getting a detention of any sort. Severus lingered before following suit, returning to his chair moodily.

"Thanks." said Barty. "That was awfully kind of you."

"Don't get me wrong. I would recommend you join them as well, it could help you with your… loneliness." she said, shaking her head and holding the liquorice wand with her index and middle fingers. "I didn't want to punish you for jinxing someone who did not provoke you if it might interfere with your involvement to the team."

"Wow, thanks."

"I'm simply being honest." Emma winked at him and joined her friends near the fireplace.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The match between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors was pathetic. Not only did the Gryffindors have weak chasers (most of whom were replaced that year), but the seeker was substituted due to a detention. There was no doubt that the Marauders were involved somehow in some way. The beaters and the keeper were the only ones who stood their ground, but they could not last long against a fully functional team by themselves without anyone to score points.

"And another point for Slytherin!" Barty's fellow chaser, whom he knew of as Rosier, bellowed, having just thrown the quaffle into the goal. The crowd shouted varying noises, some were cheers while the others were boos.

The game continued.

Barty watched the quaffle closely and waited for his turn to snatch it from the opposing team. As soon as it was in the act of being transferred to another chaser, he dove in and caught it mid-flight. His focus shifted when a bludger sailed at him, knocking him to the side and forcing his grip on the quaffle to loosen.

"Are you alright?" Emma asked, flying past him with the quaffle he had dropped. He nodded and gathered himself. He winced as he tried to move his left arm and leg, the prior being broken and the latter sporting a mean bruise.

"Ow…"

Another point was made, making the score 140 to 10 Slytherin.

"Are you alright, Crouch?" Emma shouted to him once they caught a break.

"I'm fine. It's just a bruise."

Rosier made it to the other side of Emma and grinned. "Or so the little birdy says. Shall we call off the rest of the match to help him, captain?"

"Honestly, Rosier. Grow up!"

The black-haired boy's grin only grew. "As you wish, Vanity."

The game continued.

Barty flew to his teammate's aid as the quaffle approached the goal quickly. He caught it just before it reached the goal area and passed it on immediately to Rosier. The dull pain in his arm was getting worse the longer he chose to ignore it.

"Woo!" Rosier cheered after yet another point was made.

"Florence better find the snitch or so help me I will strangle her." Emma growled. "If Gryffindor finds it now, we'll lose."

"Cheer up, Vanity!" Rosier shouted at her cheekily. "Even if she doesn't, we can still win!"

"How can we win if the game is over?"

A twisted smile answered her and a flamboyantly displayed loop in the air got her to groan exasperatedly. "You really think Gryffindor stands a chance? That seeker of theirs isn't going to be searching for the snitch, he'll be following Florence. I can tell. Less experienced seekers tend to do that, if you haven't noticed. From the way he's flying, I'd say he's only had that thing since last week."

"Only you would notice something like that, Rosier."

The game continued.

Barty managed to make a shot and it raised the score up to 160. Just as Emma was about to score, Florence crashed into her from above. It threw both girls out of balance and gave the opening to the Gryffindor seeker, who was right behind Florence.

The stadium was quiet as the substitute seeker caught the snitch. After a bated breath, the Gryffindor side erupted in whoops and cheers.

The score was tied.

Florence and Emma were falling from the sky at an alarming rate. Emma seemed to be knocked unconscious and Florence's broom had snapped in half. The cheers were slowly overturned into screams as professors reacted instantly with their wands held up.

"Arresto Momentum!" they said in unison, slowing down the descent of the two girls.

Barty landed on the ground after they did (without injuries, much to his, and many others', relief).

Rosier stared at the scoreboard and grimaced. "Vanity's not going to let us hear the end of this, is she?"

Barty, the two beaters, and the keeper agreed silently, each holding onto their brooms as if they would need to fly away at any given moment. The dull pain in his leg as soon as he dismounted his broom reminded Barty of the injury he'd need attending to.

"Where are you going?" asked the keeper, Milnes.

"My arm's broken." the fourth-year replied, then looked down at his feet. "And I think my leg needs a checkup too."

Milnes nodded and returned his attention to his teammates, mainly Florence whom he was dating.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to heal his injuries, casting a spell nonverbally before sending him off to enjoy the rest of his day, although he sincerely wish she hadn't. It only meant that he would have to face Emma and her… explosive composure. If it were any consolation, he knew he would not have to brave it alone.

It didn't make it any less terrifying.

"We were ahead by 150 points!" Emma yelled at them. "How did we tie?!"

Florence kept her mouth shut. She had been so close in catching the snitch, but she hadn't seen Emma coming in her direction until it was too late. She was just as frustrated as Emma.

Milnes frowned and put his hands behind his head. "I would say it was your fault. You got in the way of Florence."

"Or Florence rammed into Vanity." Rosier retorted. "She was about to score."

"I don't think it was anyone's fault." Barty said. "It was just an unfortunate accident."

Crabbe and Goyle, the two beaters, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, lay off it."

"The point is we need to work harder if we tied with those prats." Emma scowled. "I don't want us losing to the Hufflepuffs either, you got that?"

"But we didn't exactly lose." Florence said.

"No, but we didn't win either!"

"Why just the Hufflepuffs? Are you okay with losing to Ravenclaw?" Rosier teased.

"No! We will not be losing to anyone this year." she hissed. "Unless you want to be on my bad side, be my guest."

"What are you going to do? Hex me? You're a prefect and I doubt you'll attack me if you're not provoked." Rosier grinned. "Yeah, I heard you talking to Crouch (Barty winced) a few days back. You're not a hypocrite, are you?"

"You're forgetting that I'm a prefect and your captain and I can make your life a living hell."

Crabbe, Goyle, Milnes, Florence, and Barty all shut their mouths tight, not daring to anger her knowing fully well that she intended on following through on her promise.

When Rosier caved in and gave up, she smiled. "Good. Now this was our first match of the year, meaning we can still gain enough points from the ones coming up to place first."

-.-.-.-.-.-

The NEWTs came late into the school year, after the last match of the Inter-House Quidditch Cup. Thankfully, Emma was not lashing out at them anymore for losing by thirty points against Hufflepuff since she had her hands full with studying.

Alice and Frank were even more distant than they initially were in the beginning of the year, leaving Barty with nothing to do but bide his time. He went into the owlery to spend time with his owl, Aldwyn. The great horned owl hooted a 'long-time-no-see' type of hoot and jumped from his perch to Barty's arm.

"Hello, Aldwyn." he greeted, stroking the feathers on his head. The owl made a noise similar to a purr, but not quite. "I have a treat for you."

He took out a flobberworm fritter he had wrapped in a napkin and held it up for Aldwyn to eat. Footsteps approached him from behind and he paid no attention to it. Only when the person spoke up did he turn around.

"Shouldn't you be with your friends?" Lily asked, walking over to a barn owl from Hogwarts (she didn't have an owl of her own).

"Which ones?"

"Any of them." she said with an edge in her voice. "Your Slytherin friends."

Barty scoffed and shook his head. "You don't seem to like Slytherins much. Why?"

"It's none of your business."

"It's been two years, hasn't it? Since you accused me of learning Dark Magic."

"Why are you bringing that up?" she asked warily. Lily finished tying a letter on the barn owl and sent it out into the night. "I doubt you're saying that to scare me."

"Smart. I'm guessing that it's part of the reason you detest- no, that's not the right term- disapprove of Slytherins. What happened between you and Snape?"

She looked back at him and headed for the door. "How observant of you." She stopped before shutting it. "Are you planning on being a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Good." With that, she closed the door.

Aldwyn hooted and sat on top of Barty's head, feeling quite pleased with himself. Barty got up, with the owl stubbornly refusing to leave his head, and walked to the door, since he was planning on returning to the common room before curfew.

Aldwyn flapped his wings in protest and attempted to keep his master with him for a little while longer. Unfortunately for him, a human was stronger than an owl.

"Sorry, Aldwyn. I'll come by tomorrow with some more flobberworm fritters."

-.-.-.-.-.-

The NEWTs were finally over and everyone got ready to head home for the summer. For the first time since early in the school year, Frank talked to him.

"I'm planning on, well, proposing to Alice." he said barely above a whisper.

"Okay. Why are you telling me?" asked Barty, who was surprised that he was the first to hear of this. "Why not tell the Marauders? They're closer to you nowadays."

"Because they'd laugh at me." said Frank, who then frowned. "You're still a close friend, you know. It's just getting harder to chat with the growing house rivalries."

"Since when did you care about house rivalries?"

"Ever since Evan decided to become a Death Eater." he answered. Barty raised an eyebrow and Frank sighed. "Seventh-year chaser for Slytherin?"

"Rosier?"

"Yeah, him. I thought he wasn't going to, but I thought wrong. He yelled at Alice in October for being a 'blood traitor.' We never would have guessed that he believed in the blood purity nonsense. He was nice enough to Lily, at least... I think. Just what you'd expect from a Slytherin pure blood."

Barty picked through the words and digested them. "So you've been avoiding me because I could turn out to be a Death Eater?"

Rather than denying it, Frank nodded solemnly. "Something like that."

"You know I'm not-"

"That's what Evan said when Alice asked him last year."

"You know me better than-"

"He said that too."

"I know I won't, I can promise you that."

"You can't know what will happen in the future."

Barty was stunned, but shook it off and redirected the conversation back to what Frank had originally introduced himself with. "So, when are you going to tell her?"

"Soon, I hope. What do you think? Do you think I should?"

"I say take your time." He shrugged. "But what's the worse that'll happen? I highly doubt she'll say no."

Frank grinned and punched Barty's arm. "Thanks, Bart. I'll invite you to our wedding."

"Yeah, if I haven't turned Death Eater by then."

"Bart."

"Frank."

"No."

Barty smiled. "Then marry her before I turn eighty. That'll give you plenty of time."

* * *

1976-1977, Fifth-Year

Barty looked down at the letter for the fiftieth time that day. Aldwyn hooted happily in his cage and moved to the edge as if he was trying to catch a glimpse of what it said. Alice had written to him that summer once, Frank twice. Both sent the news that they were accepted into the Ministry of Magic and got a job in the Auror Department. According to Frank's second letter, the one he was currently holding, they had joined something similar to the anti-Death Eaters. It was an invitation to join as soon as he completed his seventh year.

It didn't have any more information except: "Alice and I are in a group that oppose Moldy Shorts. Want to join us?"

He, of course, knew the man Frank was referring to, considering all of the Wizarding World was talking about the imminent war. Voldemort, or so he was called. The creator of the band of witches and wizards classically known as the Death Eaters, practitioner of Dark Magic, and despiser of all things non-pure blood.

Barry could only imagine what his father was doing at work.

Aldwyn tipped the cage and fell on top of Barty. After a frantic attempt to catch it, he chided Aldwyn and put the cage back on the top of the trunk. He sat back down and looked at the letter.

Seventh year felt so far away.

The train's horn rang loud and the train itself entered the station. Barty shoved the letter into his pocket and pushed his belongings in the cart in front of him. Aldwyn flapped his wings excitedly.

That was the first time Barty entered the train without two certain Gryffindors accompanying him. He found it rather lonely.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Are you studying any differently?" Regulus asked one night in the common room. "You know, for the OWLs."

"No."

"Do you want a study partner?"

Barty barely regarded him. "No."

"Oh." Regulus frowned and slumped into the chair beside him. "That's too bad. You've always seemed so lonely."

"What if I wanted to be alone?"

Regulus snorted. "Alone and lonely are two different things. You may want to be alone, but no one wants to be lonely."

"That's an… interesting contradiction."

"And you're supposed to be the smart one." Regulus muttered under his breath. "Do I really have to explain it to you?"

"No, I figured it out." said Barty, who had finally acknowledged his housemate. "But that was rather slow of me."

"I'll say."

"Don't."

Regulus smirked and peeked into the book Barty was studying from. "Muggles Studies? Why are you taking Muggles Studies?"

"I'm taking all of the classes here. Is that a problem?"

"No, I guess it isn't."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have some studying to do."

The black-haired fifth-year sighed and silently watched him as he flipped the pages in mild fervor. Barty really wished he was left alone. It wasn't so bad being lonely, no matter what Regulus had said.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The time of the examinations came closer and closer. In no time at all, all the fifth-years were holed up in rooms to complete their many exams.

Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Herbology, History of Magic, Muggle Studies, Potions, and Transfiguration.

Barty was taking all of them.

Florence had been an easier captain than Emma was, although that didn't mean he was an exception from practices, which were limited to Mondays and Thursdays. The two new beaters that replaced Crabbe and Goyle were decent, whereas the two new chasers that replaced Emma and Rosier were terrible.

Back to the OWLs.

The first week, in order, included Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Ancient Runes. The second week included the rest.

"How do you think you did on Herbology?" a Hufflepuff asked her classmate.

"Better than Potions, that's for sure. I don't really like Professor Slughorn all that much."

"Really? I thought you'd do well in potions. At least you didn't flunk Care of Magical Creatures."

A nearby Ravenclaw chuckled at the exchange between the Hufflepuffs, although he wasn't willing to admit that he, too, likely failed Care of Magical Creatures.

"And History of Magic is so boring! I can't stay awake during Professor Binns' lectures, much less learn from them!" a Gryffindor shouted in anger. "I wish he'd hurry up and die."

"He's already dead." a Ravenclaw pointed out.

"I meant passed on! Like leave the world of the living and go on to his afterlife already!"

"That's just rude."

"What do you expect? He's a Gryffindor." said a Slytherin girl.

"Oi, I heard that!"

Barty listened to them blankly. The exams were doable. Not hard nor moderately difficult, just doable. They had just completed all of them and were currently waiting around in the Great Hall.

"What about you, Crouch?" Barty's mood instantly began to sour as Regulus walked up to him with a grin.

"I told you not to call me that."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't let me call you Bartemius, Bartemy, Barty, Bart, or Junior. I've known you for five years already and you still won't let me on first name terms."

Rather than glaring, like Regulus thought he would, Barty stared at the roof above the wall on the other side of the Great Hall. The ceiling had a beautiful starry night imprinted on it with stars that appeared to be shifting.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr." he said at last. "I hate that name."

"Really? Why?"

"It makes me a shadow of my father. My father who wouldn't look twice. My father who cares so much about his precious image that he doesn't have time to care for his son. My father whom I wished to please for so long, only to be told I'm not good enough. My father who isn't really a father to me." he said monotonously. "It's also a stupid name."

"Wow. That's rough, buddy."

"I'm not your buddy, Black."

Regulus shrugged and watched the group of students continue their exchange of "How do you think you did on Herbology?" "Oh, I failed for sure!" and other such conversations.

"I guess not, Crouch."

Barty sighed and took his eyes off the ceiling. He headed back toward the dungeons, passing Regulus as he did so.

"The offer still stands, you know." Regulus said to him, making him stop. "The gang. We're open to new members and there are some spells Hogwarts doesn't teach."

It took a minute for Barty to come up with an answer, which seemed harder than it was the year before. "I'm not interested."

* * *

1977-1978, Sixth-Year

Despite what he had said for the past few years, Barty found himself in the midst of the Slytherin gang. It was not as bad as he initially thought. It was sort of like the Slytherin version of the Marauders, only bigger in scale and filled with Dark Magic.

"What exactly do you do here?"

Regulus grinned and held out his wand. "Practice hexes and jinxes. Some even learned the Unforgivables."

"And why would anyone want to learn them?"

"Because they're cool!"

Barty grimaced. "You really think controlling, torturing, and killing is cool?"

Regulus stopped and grew somber. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"Yeah. If anything, I'd say that the people learning them are planning on becoming Death Eaters."

"Most of us are, yeah." said Regulus. "What about you?"

"I strongly suggest you don't."

He looked lost. "Why?"

"What do you expect? Most people would see them as monsters. How much of the wizard population has muggle blood? How many people believe that they deserve a place in the magic population?" Barty asked. "In the end, the Death Eaters will look like villains if a war really does ensue. Not enough people would support their cause, after all."

"You don't know that." Regulus said.

"Oh? Prove me wrong."

"Purebloods have more power, more magic. We want to keep them out of our lives completely, not just out of the way like what the Ministry does with muggles. We are trying to keep a balance between our worlds. We are not the villains!"

A short pause allowed for a breath intake, but the silence filled the air in a musty and confining way.

"Is that so…" was all Barty could say.

They didn't speak for a long time after that.

-.-.-.-.-.-

During a trip to Hogsmeade, they met with Death Eaters at a closed off pub. One of them was Regulus's cousin, Bellatrix Black. She scowled at them and began talking about what exactly they were getting themselves into.

"The Dark Lord is not someone to trifle with. This is not for show." she said, revealing a mark on her forearm. "It is a commitment to the great cause."

Barty felt out of place, but not really at the same time. It was an odd feeling of being at home while being alone. Yes, it felt like home. Exactly like at home. No one noticed him.

At least, that's what he thought.

"You." said one of the Lestrange brothers, pointing at him. When he didn't react, Lestrange walked over and yanked him up from his chair. "You're that Crouch kid Regulus talked about."

He could feel all eyes on him and he pulled himself away from the man's grip. "What about it?"

"The son of a government official." Bellatrix hummed, walking over and studying him. "This will make the Dark Lord very pleased. From what I heard from little Reggy is that you got twelve OWLs last year, yes?"

Again, Barty replied with "What about it?"

"A smart mind and a useful position, perfect for the great cause."

Barty was about to open his mouth, but was stopped by a finger that pressed together his lips.

"Don't speak. Listen."

And he did. He listened as the woman continued to speak. She spoke about the wonders of the Dark Lord and the promises he's made; the cleansing of the wizarding population and the power as a result of it were spoken boldly. She talked about the grandeur, the unity, the greatness, and the support he can provide. The great and powerful Dark Lord.

Not once did she say 'Voldemort.'

It was either out of respect or out of fear. Words have power, names being no exception. Although, given the situation, Barty assumed that the former was the main reason rather than the latter.

For whatever reason, the part that interested him most was the care he gave to his Death Eaters. He taught them, helped them, and gave them a purpose. It was so tempting.

So when the time came for people to join the ranks of the Dark Lord, he was among those that held up their hands. Bellatrix grinned sadistically and clapped her hands together.

"Your first assignment will be-"

"Wait, we start now?" asked a fifth-year, whom Barty could not remember the name of. "But I have to study for the OWLs soon."

As the woman explained to the girl that "Yes, we will start now. The Dark Lord is not always patient and there is much to do", Barty thought back to his fourth-year.

Evan Rosier, the Slytherin chaser that Alice and Frank knew well, became a Death Eater. They avoided him because they were afraid he'd become one as well. He even promised to Frank he would never join them. He promised.

But that promise was so long ago. Where were they now? Had they forgotten about poor little Barty, alone at Hogwarts? Not alone, lonely.

"The Dark Lord plans on making an appearance soon, so we must pave the way for him." the smaller of the two Lestrange brothers said. "Your first assignment will be to master the Unforgivables."

"That's not that bad." someone whispered beside him.

"You will prepare for when you can act outside Hogwarts and wait for the Dark Lord."

* * *

1978-1979, Seventh-Year

The war had begun.

In the middle of June, a muggleborn was killed. It was a very messy death, likely from the use of cutting curses or other spells of such calibre. The Killing Curse, which was instant death, would have been a blessing compared to it.

As expected from the beginning of the war, other deaths followed. Five in July, sixteen in August, and thirty-four in September. The ministry reacted as quickly as they could and stopped a few, but not a single Death Eater had been captured. Panic spread to every corner of the Wizarding World as the Dark Mark, a symbol now immediately associated with Voldemort and his followers, hovered over multiple houses each week. Imagine returning home or going to work and seeing the green insignia floating above your destination. The fear made the world hold its breath.

Barty rubbed his forearm absentmindedly. It was a mistake to allow himself to be caught up in the midst of war. Even at Hogwarts, he was expected to play a role for the great cause. He already had to learn how to perform the Unforgivables. He already had to use them on a certain muggleborn family.

Somehow, he had already managed to gain access to the inner circle, most likely due to his involvement in the Ministry and his mind. Not meaning to brag or anything, but the truth was there. Voldemort, himself, was present for the torture of the family Barty was assigned to. Barty had even opened up about the growing dislike he harbored for his father, something Voldemort claimed to share. Almost like he was trying to be won over, the Dark wizard gave Barty everything he could have wanted, namely a family.

It was all so tempting and he had fallen into it.

He looked at the letter in his hands, the one Aldwyn sent to him with care rather than dropping it into his bowl of cereal or soup like he normally did with the Daily Prophet. It was an invitation.

"Alice Carrow and Frank Longbottom request the presence of Bartemius Crouch Junior to attend their wedding on Saturday, 3 November 1979."

"It's about time." he said with a faint smile as he stroke Aldwyn's feathers before sending him off. "It's been too long."

Inwardly, he was wondering how a joyous event could occur at such a time of terror.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"It's been years, Barty!" said Alice after the ceremony. Everyone spoke to one another as if nothing was wrong in the world. "How have you been? How many OWLs did you get?"

"Er, twelve."

"No. way." she gasped. "You got an OWL on every subject at Hogwarts? Congratulations!"

Barty didn't answer. He didn't need to, but he wished he did. If he did, she would not have noticed his funereal expression. She stopped laughing cheerfully and grew worried.

"Are you okay? Have you made any new friends at school recently? I know Frank and I were your only close friends when we left."

He shook his head and put on a smile. "I can trust you, right?" She nodded solemnly. "Can I speak to you and Frank for a moment?"

"Sure thing. I'm guessing you want to talk in private."

Barty nodded and let himself be dragged off to who knows where. They found Frank with his mother, who gave Barty a warning look, and stole him away for whatever it was their friend was trying to tell them. They exited to the empty hall outside the ballroom the wedding reception was held in.

"Hey, Bart. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, I suppose."

Alice crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. "Alright, what did you want to tell us."

He answered her by revealing the mark on his forearm, the same one shone above the houses targeted by Voldemort. It was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth like a tongue.

Alice uncrossed her arms and took a step back, whereas Frank took a step forward with a hand in his pocket.

"Bart, I thought I you said-"

"I know what I said." he interrupted. "I know what I promised. But I can't say that I regret it, not exactly."

"You became one of them and you're not sorry?" Frank asked, hand still in his pocket in case he needed access to his wand. "Not even remotely?"

"I am!" he shouted at them. "If you were there, I probably wouldn't have gotten this- this stigma."

"You and your fancy words." Alice commented out of habit.

"Yeah. I missed when you said that."

"Okay, then what now? Are you going to renounce Moldy Shorts?" Frank asked. "You never replied to the letter I sent two years ago. You know, the one about joining us in the Order."

"Too little information. It was the same as asking if I wanted to go to a place. No explanations, just 'a place.' I didn't even know it was considered an order."

"Well, would you consider it?" asked Alice, who had recovered from her shock and put a hand on Frank's shoulder to ease his tension. "Would you join us against Voldemort?"

Barty thought about it. He had been so sure they could convince him to leave this war and go far away from the burden of a Death Eater. Now, he wasn't so sure. Not only did they leave him off the hook too easily, they wanted him to join an opposing side to the one he was on.

"Come on, Bart. We don't want to lose you like we did Evan. He was a good guy, but we didn't know him as well as we know you."

"Knew, Frank. You don't know me anymore."

"Barty-" Alice began, but was cut off.

"Neither of you know me anymore. Three years can be an awfully long time. In that time, I changed."

"How?" asked Alice, who walked closer. "How is it you've changed? Is it that you grew taller than me? You got more OWLs than I could ever get? You got an ugly looking mark that signifies your allegiance to Voldemort?"

"I-"

"Is it that you got a new haircut or that your voice is deeper? Is it that you're alone at Hogwarts or you're stressed from studying for the NEWTs? What is it?"

Barty clenched his hands into fists and looked away. "You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. Seriously, Barty. If you want to scare us, say that you joined Voldemort and you plan on killing us. Say that you like killing or that you love torturing muggles. Say that you forgot our friendship and are going to use the Cruciatus Curse on us!"

"Alice!" Frank shouted, calming down his newly wedded wife. "Stop it."

"What are you here for, then?" Alice continued. "It's not because you wanted to stab us in the back. It's because you want us to help you."

Frank looked at Barty and saw that he was trembling. "Alice."

"Listen, Barty. We are always here for you. You just have to be open to our help. We want to help you. It's just like the old days when we were still at Hogwarts, right?"

Barty found his voice and nodded. "Yeah." He was met with a hug and he no longer felt so lonely. He felt another set of arms wrap around him and Alice. Finally, he returned it and ordered himself to stop shaking.

Loud rumbles and clashing filled his ears and the embrace was broken. It sounded like spells were being casted inside the ballroom, making them all tense. The shouting and screaming got them to act.

The trio stared at one another before Frank ran out the door to find its source. Barty prepared his wand and ran in after Alice, only to find a relatively calm party still brewing with everyone's eyes on a woman who was holding her wand at a corner.

At the other end of the wand, a beetle was crawling up the wall. Her cheeks flushed red and Barty let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Seriously?" Frank asked the woman. "Molly, it's just a beetle."

"Just a beetle, I'll show you. I swear that thing has been following me everywhere."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Similar to the OWLs, the NEWTs were doable. The new material that was taught in sixth and seventh year made for some difficult, but useful, exams. Just as it was two years ago, people complained and conversed with one another. Most of the words spoken, however, related to the war that continued to worsen.

Hogwarts was relatively untouched, but no one knew what was waiting for them outside the castle. Some would have to attend funerals of loved ones they had lost, some would be shoved into working on contributing to the war effort. Every side needs soldiers, and who better to recruit than students fresh from school.

Regulus and a couple other people in the Slytherin gang had already done deeds for their involvement in the war, Barty being one of them. The more he did it, the more he hated it. The screams that filled his ears were shattering, the glassy eyes that came with absolute control haunted him, and he told himself that death was the far more desirable option in their position.

Could he turn back now, or was it too late?

As the students gathered around, exchanging answers and dialogue, along with a "Bloody hell, I'm mental!", Barty thought about the future and rubbed his forearm.

No, he had enough of torturing helpless and innocent people. The great cause was not so great, although he never once believed it was to begin with, not when it sought to justify senseless murder. The was great because of the people who fought for it. It also became undignified because of said people, including himself.

Summer was starting and that only meant one thing for him.

His life was going to get a whole hell of a lot worse.


	3. Braving the World of Dangers

Chapter 3: Braving the World of Dangers

* * *

A/N: The chapters are going to be shorter from now on since I'm not trying to scrunch up five years into one chapter. They might be a bit rushed. Thank you for taking your time to read this and enjoy.

* * *

1980

The entire Wizard world was thrown into chaos by the time July came. It marked the end of the second year after that act of violence that served as the declaration of war (a war that in all reality started as soon as Voldemort had a face in society in 1970).

Barty went into working for the Ministry immediately after school, specifically the department his father was in charge of, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was still in contact with the Death Eaters and gave them what they wanted: information. Information about the layout of the Ministry, about the plans they had, and how to counter it if they so needed to.

He'd been doing so for two years already.

He trusted Alice and Frank enough so that what he gave to them would be passed on to the Order. Becoming a double agent was difficult, but nothing he could not manage.

"Are you sure you don't want to join the Order?" Alice had asked him. "They'll know who to thank."

"I'm sure. Giving them my name would only put me in danger." Barty answered. "If someone caught anyone in the Order and forced them to talk, I'll likely be the first to be ratted out."

"Snape works with us, you know. He's a double agent like you."

"Forgive me if I don't entirely trust him." Barty glowered. "He says that he-who-must-not-be-named knows of his involvement with acting for the Order, meaning he could switch with the tide of war."

"Be careful, then." Frank said.

Barty glanced at his pocket watch and counted the seconds, which turned into minutes and, subsequently, hours. From the information he had gathered from a meeting with the other Death Eaters, their next target was in a muggle neighborhood. He kept look out for the past week in preparation. There was only one family with magic in the vicinity, a muggle-born named Thomas. Just to make sure, he set up detection wards around the area.

He waited for the time that two or three Death Eaters would arrive by apparition. He was supposed to be in the Ministry at that time, but he could make a few detours before someone caught wind of his absence. It's not like anyone would notice him gone anyway.

The moon shone eerily in the sky and was often blotched out by the passing clouds. He waited as the wind shook the leaves of the tree behind him and the street lights glowed in mild reverie. The door to the house looked so welcoming, as if it were ready to swing open for guests at any second.

Aldwyn stayed quiet alongside him. He watched with focused eyes and readied himself to fly away with a letter already tied to his leg. Barty stroked his head and smiled at him. He was his most loyal and reliable companion, perhaps more so than a patronus.

Finally, as the hour and minute hands fixed on 10 and 9 respectively, four wizards and witches appeared in a flash. A week of waiting finally paid off.

As soon as they appeared, Barty sent Aldwyn with the letter to the Longbottoms. If they could relay the information to either the Order, which they were a part of, or the Ministry, since they were aurors, then no blood would be shed.

Holding out his wand and aiming right at the wizard in the center, Barty shot a spell. "Imperio."

The body relaxed and no longer walked with such urgency. The other three gave him a questioning look. One of the witches stopped completely and asked him what was wrong.

"Walk away from the house." Barty ordered, seeing his words take affect. The man turned on his heels and walked the other way. The witch followed him while the other two waited impatiently.

"Continue walking."

The wizard rounded a corner with the witch following close behind. As soon as they were out of the other two's sight, Barty slipped out of his hiding spot.

The witch was about to shout something, but he silenced her, casting a simple 'Silencio' that rendered her mute.

"Epoximise." he said to make her stay in place.

As he got closer to them, he noticed a few features in her face. She looked so familiar.

Before he could catch a glimpse of what she looked like underneath her hood, she slipped out her wand and casted a silent disarming charm. Barty countered it, but just barely. His concentration broke and the wizard took control of his own body once more.

Barty cussed under his breath and took cover behind some well placed shielding spells. He conjured barriers to prevent the other two Death Eaters from interfering with them. Hopefully, they wouldn't catch wind of the skirmish until after he dealt with them.

The witch restored her voice and casted a Cruciatus Curse at him. The wizard was recovering and fiddling around with his robes to take out his wand.

Barty miscalculated and the curse hit him full on. The pain was dreadful. He willed himself not to scream, but will was not enough to control his body.

Thank God he had the foresight to riddle the area with silencing charms and dampening spells.

His surroundings went blurry and his sense of direction was thrown out the window. He could vaguely feel his wand in his hands and tried with all his might to counteract the curse. If he had to face two Death Eaters at the same time, he will lose.

"Contra Percutiens!" he seethed, somehow managing to undo the curse on him and repel it. His body slacked and he took in deep breaths, trying to ease the pain and tension the spell left on him. He heard the witch scream and remembered that she was not the only one he was fighting.

Quickly, or as quickly as he could without toppling over, he pushed himself off the ground and found himself face-to-face with the wizard. The wand was out and pointing at him. He was hesitating, meaning he was new at this whole field thing.

That gave Barty his chance. The witch stopped screaming and her wheezing filled the silenced night.

Taking advantage of the confused wizard, Barty chanted "Dormio Somnus!" and watched as his body fell on the floor in an empty thump. It was only a sleeping charm, nothing more. No blood should be shed that night, not even that of the Death Eaters.

The witch pulled herself up and aimed her wand at him. "Avada-"

"Expelliarmus!"

Her wand flew out of her hand before she could cast the spell, although the green light was eager at the wand tip.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Her body stiffened and she fell alongside her partner.

Barty stared at her eyes, which were wide with anger. He tried to remember where he'd seen them. They were a dull blue that he could not pinpoint. He walked over to where she laid and pulled off her hood.

His own mask covered his face, but she could still see the surprise in him. He took a few steps back and stared at her in disbelief.

Emma Vanity, former captain of the Slytherin quidditch team.

Sirens alarmed him and Aldwyn returned with a wizard following closely behind him. Barty casted the sleeping charm on Emma and pulled on her hood as he waited for the wizard's arrival.

"Bart!" Frank called out, running up to his friend. The glare that was given to him made him rephrase. "Right, sorry Theta. I keep forgetting about the whole secret thing. What's the situation here?"

"There are two more waiting around the corner. Tell me you brought backup."

"I brought backup."

"There's no one coming, is there." Barty stated rather than questioned.

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "No."

"Ugh, fine. Then apparate these two back to the Ministry." he said, gesturing to the sleeping figures on the floor. "Come back for the others when you're done."

Frank nodded and took the Death Eaters away. Aldwyn stayed and awaited further orders. Barty prepared himself for another potential duel.

The remaining witch and wizard grew twitchy by the disappearance of their partners. The witch cocked her head at the door, clearly wishing to get it over with. The wizard was not easily swayed and, instead, pointed down the street.

"They shouldn't have been gone for long. Something must have happened."

"If something happened, don't you think we'd have heard it? Besides, they can handle themselves."

"I don't know. Did you see the way his body moved? It was almost like he was being controlled by someone."

"The Imperius Curse?"

"Possibly."

The witch scoffed and flaunted her wand. "Wouldn't you need someone to use the spell? Unless you mean to say someone knew we were coming."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to say."

Barty casted a disillusionment charm on himself, making him blend in with his surroundings. He told Aldwyn to stay behind as he crept up on them. "Dormio Somnus."

The witch's head drooped and she tipped forward. The wizard caught her and started to shake her. "Hey. Hey! Wake up! Now's not the time to sle-" he stopped and pulled out his wand. "Protego!"

Barty's spell merged with the shield, rendering itself useless. He tried another spell and aimed for an opening in the shield. When it did not work, he moved to get a better angle to attack from.

Frank was probably trying to explain why he left wherever he was to the people who were with him and how he managed to capture two Death Eaters with seemingly no intention to. That meant Frank wouldn't be there to help until another ten minutes at most, until he'd finished his explaining and got them properly secured with the right people.

"Come out and fight me, you coward!" the wizard bellowed, readying his wand with a curse. "Where are you, Thomas?"

Thomas was the muggle-born that lived in the neighborhood. So he didn't think someone else was interfering with their plans. That was a relief.

The door to the muggle-born's house swung open and a man in his pajamas came out, wand readied in front of him. "Stupefy!"

Barty was not ready for that, but the Death Eater was. With the flick of his wand, the wizard diverted the spell to the side, right where Barty was standing with his eyes still on Thomas.

The spell hit him and he fell on his back. Neither of the two men heard him land over their heated duel. Barty waited it out, trying desperately to move to no avail.

Frank returned just in time to see Thomas' wand go airborne. He jumped into the duel and disabled the Death Eater, who yelled at them, saying that the Dark Lord will kill them both.

"You can't win, so give up." Frank said to him.

"Never. The my lord will free me, you'll see! He'll free us all from people like him."

Thomas lowered his head to see the man's eyes. "What have I ever done to you?" he all but whispered.

"You stole our magic, mudblood! You aren't supposed to have it! You're nothing but a thief!"

"Who has magic is none of your business." Frank countered. "He didn't steal it, he was born with it. That's different."

"Is it, now? You're a pureblood, Longbottom. Why do you spend time with trash like him? Wait, you never did! You always avoided them, right? Crouch, Carrow, Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, Rosier, Weasley. They were all purebloods!"

"How did you-"

"We went to Hogwarts together, don't you remember?" he spat.

Thomas had enough of it. "Stupefy." Upon seeing that the Death Eater could no longer move, he turned to Frank. "Thank you, Longbottom. I'd have been a goner had you not arrived."

"It's my duty, sir."

"Are you okay?"

Frank nodded and looked back at the stunned man. "Lupin and Pettigrew are half bloods."

Thomas sighed and shook his head. "Don't listen to him, mate. You have nothing to prove."

It took a few seconds for Frank to answer. "Right."

"Go on, bring him in. And that one, too. She was down before I came out."

He did as he was told and took both of them by the hood of their cloaks. He spotted Aldwyn looking at the road to his right and made a mental note that he should get an owl one day. It could really help him with work, like Aldwyn does with Barty. He should really stop putting it off.

After Frank apparated and Thomas went back inside his home, Aldwyn flew over to Barty and nudged him. The disillusionment charm and the stunning spell were still in affect. Barty mentally chided himself for not being careful enough and let Aldwyn peck his arm.

Frank returned one more time and ran up to the great horned owl, much to Barty's relief.

"Hey, little guy. Where's Ba- Theta?"

Aldwyn hooted and hopped on top of his invisible body. He could feel the claws prick him each time he landed.

"You're invisible? Hold on. Aparecium."

The charm was lifted and Frank could see the discomfort in Barty's face. He laughed at him and sat down.

"Are you stunned?"

The look he was given told Frank what he already knew. He laughed a little more and played with his wand.

"Rennerverate."

Barty jolted up and startled Aldwyn, who flew off in fright but recuperated swiftly. "That was unpleasant."

"Yeah. I need to get back now, Alice needs protection."

"I've never heard anyone say that before."

Frank smirked and patted his back. "Normally, I'd say she can take care of herself, but remember, she's pregnant."

Barty's mouth opened. "You're kidding me. Since when?"

Frank raised an eyebrow. "We found out in October."

"In October? She's been pregnant for nine months and no one told me?"

Frank scratched his nose and said, "Oh yeah, I forgot."

"You forgot."

"I forgot."

"So that's why I haven't seen Alice since December."

"Yup." said Frank, stressing the 'p' sound. "Sorry about that."

"Well? Go!"

He jumped up with a wide grin and waved farewell. With an exaggerated bow, he vanished.

Aldwyn sat beside Barty with his head stretched outward. "At least no muggles were caught up in this mess. Not this time." Aldwyn nodded in agreement.

Barty apparated back home. His shift at the Ministry was long over.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Winky was waiting for him with a cup of tea sitting neatly on the dining table, despite the time being near midnight. She busied herself with dusting the bookshelves in the living room and polishing the ceramics on display around the house.

The front door opened quietly and the fluttering wings of an owl told Winky that young master Barty had returned. "Master Barty!"

Mr. Crouch was already asleep, since that was one of the only days he didn't have to take any late-hour shifts, which were then handed over to someone who Mr. Crouch trusted enough to complete the tasks and succeed him should the need arise. Rarely was the opportunity presented for the man to catch up on his much needed rest, and less frequently would he take the offer. A member of the Ministry practically had to force the rest upon him when it started to affect the way he functioned.

Barty greeted Winky with a smile and brought Aldwyn to his perch on top of the fireplace. "Good evening, Winky. How's your day?"

"It is very good, sir! I is finishing cleaning the shelves and flowerpots!"

"That's nice."

She beamed and ran around with her duster forgotten. When she came back into the living room, a tray with teacups and a teapot was in her hands. "Here, you is tired from long day of work. I is knowing that, sir."

Barty transfigured one of the two cups into a deep plate. He duplicated the other and filled all three with tea. "Would you like some?"

Winky nodded and gratefully took the cuppa while Aldwyn swooped down onto the table and drank from the dish.

Barty drank some of the tea in the cup and thought about the Death Eaters, particularly Emma Vanity. The wizard who partnered with her was also somewhat familiar, but he didn't take the time to uncover his identity. If he could guess, he was someone from his time at Hogwarts. Many of the Slytherins in the gang had already turned to he-who-must-not-be-named, himself included.

"What is you thinking about?" Winky asked. "Is work hard?"

"It's difficult, yes." he responded. "How about you, Winky? Is keeping the house clean at all moments of the day hard?"

"No, sir! I love cleaning, it is fun!"

Aldwyn snorted and coughed in his dish. He gave her a bemused look and seemed to roll his eyes at her.

"That is rude, owl." she bit back. "I is not dumb."

Aldwyn hooted at her a few times, to which she responded by slamming her cup on the table.

"Owl is not nice. I is proud serving the Crouches! Winky is proud of being a house elf!"

"Aldwyn, stop teasing her." Barty ordered. The owl scoffed once before redirecting his focus on his suddenly fascinating tea. "Play nice."

Winky grew red and quickly downed her tea. "Thank you, master Barty, but I is getting back to work."

Barty nodded and dismissed her. She wobbled away with the small cup in her hands and headed for the kitchen to wash it. Aldwyn looked up from his dish and finished up the last bit of his own tea. He waited for Barty in case he had another task for him, although he wanted to go hunt for a rat or insect to eat. Good sport was always fun.

The clock struck one o'clock in the morning when Barty retreated to his room. The tea was a nice thing to have before going to bed, but it did have caffeine in it. Aldwyn had no problem, since he had been napping all day long. The same could not be said for his master.

With dreary eyes and a drooping head, Barty fell asleep while sitting on his bed writing on a piece of parchment at two in the morning. A part of him worried about something, but he couldn't place what.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Emma grimaced as the light broke into her waiting cell. She and her fellow Death Eaters were split off and it bugged her to death. As soon as they arrived at Thomas' home, things had gone downhill. Someone had been waiting for them and it was messing with her head.

She didn't want to go to Azkaban, not if it meant she could not see the Great Cause be fulfilled.

"How long are you going to sit there?" a voice she thought she would never hear again said at the door. "Here's your wand."

She caught it in midair and grinned at her rescuer. "How are you, Rosier?"

He frowned at her and twirled his own wand. "Besides going around and cleaning up your mess? Not bad. The Dark Lord is disappointed in you, you should have gotten rid of that mudblood."

"It's not my fault someone knew we were coming." she shrugged as she got up and stretched her limbs.

"Who?"

"I can't say. He seemed to know who I was, though."

Rosier sighed and shook his head. "That's not good. Come on, before a guard comes by and sees me freeing a prisoner."

"We can fight our way out."

"Against a department full of aurors? I don't think so."

Emma pouted but followed Evan quietly. They freed the other three and killed or cursed a couple unsuspecting workers they happened to encounter. Few were left alive, much less alive and in the right state of mind. Rosier gave each a cloak embedded with disillusionment charms strong enough to completely mask their presence, rambling on about how rushed his rescue mission had to be.

Vanity glanced at Tuft, the one under the imperius Curse, as he explained. He admitted that he could have taken out the interferer, but hesitated. His lack of experience failed him. A poor bloke at the reception was turned into a lesson for him, so that he wouldn't hesitate the next time something like that happened.

As soon as they made it out of the Ministry, which had a few unlucky people running late night shifts that were painfully inconvenient for their escape, resulting in dead or disfigured workers, they got down to business.

Rosier led them to one of the many hideouts branched out into Wizarding London and took back the cloaks they'd borrowed. Next, he sat them all down on chairs arranged around a circular table. Information was vital during war.

"Give me everything you have. Let's start simple. Any idea who brought you in?" Evan asked them. "Or are you going to tell me nothing useful."

"It was Longbottom." Wilkes said. "The bastard saved Thomas when I was just about to kill 'em."

"Ah. I see." Rosier said. "If I'm not mistaken, my old friend Frank has gained quite the name as an auror. He possesses a threat that'll need to be dealt with soon."

"I heard Alice is pregnant." Emma added. "A weakness just begging to be exploited."

"No. Even if she were pregnant, she's still a powerful witch when it comes to dueling." Wilkes commented. "She, Frank, Evan and I used to duel every day during first, second, and third year back at Hogwarts."

"That's not what I am concerned with at the moment. What I want to know is who the man you fought was." Rosier asked them. "Do any of you know his identity?"

"Do you mean Thomas or Longbottom?" Ross inquired. She was as confused with the conversation as Tuft was.

"No, a third party."

"There was someone else?" Wilkes questioned, feeling agitated. "That explains it. Who?"

"Someone who could warn the Ministry should it be done. Are you absolutely sure that Thomas was not aware of you coming?"

"Positive, unless we have a mole." Emma stated with certainty. "The man wasn't Thomas, that's a fact."

"Then Longbottom arrived due to the mystery man rather than the mudblood." Rosier deducted. "So it has to be someone who trusts Frank- or the Order of the Phoenix- someone who has joined leagues with the Dark Lord, someone who is relatively young by the descriptions Emma gave me earlier, and someone she knew at Hogwarts decently well."

"What's the Order of the Phoenix?" Tuft asked Wilkes off to the side.

"An order led by Dumbledore. A vigilante group, basically." Wilkes explained. "Haven't you been paying any attention in the meetings?"

"Honestly, not really."

"Who is it?" Ross asked.

Emma winced as she considered. "Someone I knew… That doesn't narrow much down."

"Think. Who is Frank or Dumbledore connected to even loosely that you knew or came across on a daily basis? If he was startled, perhaps someone who looked up to you or was in a year younger than yours. He must have been extremely skilled in spellcasting and duelling if he was able to repel the Cruciatus Curse."

The other three stayed quiet as Emma thought about it. "There are few. Crouch, Milnes, Snape, Cresswell, Black-"

"Which of them would most likely be willing to act as a spy?"

"Um…"

"The first five you've said are all wonderful candidates."

"Crouch, Milnes, Snape, Cresswell, and Black?"

Rosier nodded. "Which of them would care enough about the mudblood or feel obligated to help him?"

"How should I know?"

"Eliminate the one who's never encountered or are friends with friends of mudbloods."

"Crouch, Milnes, Snape, and Cresswell."

Tuft scrunched his nose and leaned toward Wilkes again. "How does she know this?"

Wilkes shrugged. "I think Rosier already figured it out. He's a people person, he's probably just teasing her."

Tuft accepted that explanation and redirected his attention to the two.

Emma raised a finger to her chin and continued. "We can eliminate Milnes since he would never have contacted either Longbottom, Dumbledore, or the Ministry. Knowing him, he would have thought to kill us and been done with it. He wouldn't have stopped to check who I was. Cresswell would have a difficult time getting into a league with the Dark Lord, since he's a muggle-born. That leaves us with-"

"Crouch and Snape." Evan smiled at her. "You're getting better at this."

"I learn from the best."

Ross yawned and lowered her head to rest. The long night had taken its toll on her and she felt that she was not needed for any information. Feeling that it was safe, she dozed off with a light snore.

"But if I consider who would be on the field and risk exposure, I have to consider someone who has confidence in his skills. The way he acted independently suggests he's not actually in the Order itself, but an informer through a link." Rosier noted. "Someone who would be linked to one or two, but not the whole in and of itself."

"That could be either."

"But Snape is supposed to gather information about the Order." Tuft piped in. "Isn't he pretending to be on their side? He can't be the one who attacked us."

"That's true." Emma felt a smile appear on her lips. "That leaves-"

"Crouch." Rosier finished with his signature grin. "I think we found our mystery man."


	4. The Turning Point

**Chapter 4: The Turning Point**

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 **Replies to Reviews:**

 **Anon A Moose:** Technically, Emma isn't an OC. She was mentioned on a prop plaque in one of the Harry Potter movies. I try my best to not add full OCs into fanfictions, at least not as recurring characters (with the exception of Aldwyn).

Also, Barty Jr will be very OOC here, as evident by the lack of loyalty to Lord Voldemort.

Thank you for your reviews, they are uplifting. I hope that you will continue to enjoy this story.

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The clock's shrill noise did its job too well. As soon as it rang, Barty jumped from his bed and shot a 'Reducto' at the enchanted object (it was an ordinary clock with a charm, not one of those muggle inventions), effectively shattering it into indefinite pieces. The house was quiet for the few seconds Barty stared at the wall where it once was. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes once he decided he wasn't in any imminent danger.

The bed was so welcoming, but like the saying goes, "evil never sleeps" so neither will he.

"Good morning," he said aloud to no one in particular. "Had a nice rest? Oh yeah, it was great. I only slept for three hours last night, and five the nights before."

Aldwyn hooted behind him, startling him yet again and causing him to trip on his own feet. The owl looked down at him with an 'Are you okay? Do I need to fetch you a doctor or something?' look.

Barty groaned and tried to force himself onto his feet, which proved to be more difficult than he imagined it would be. "Morning, Aldwyn. Had a nice rest?"

The owl snorted and rolled his eyes. For someone who couldn't speak, Aldwyn was a very sassy being. Who knew so much sass could be packaged into one owl?

"Sure."

They headed to the kitchen, where Winky was sleeping with her body leaning on a broom for support. Aldwyn's face lit up as he flew to the cabinet beside her. He ignored his master's warning look and made an ear-piercing screech right into her large ears, a combination that would damage any normal human's hearing, much more to a house elf.

She jolted up and covered her ears in an attempt to block out the horrible, horrible noise. In the end, she used some of her magic to temporarily cut off Aldwyn's vocal chords. He growled at her, although no noise came out. "That is very rude, owl!" she screamed, not yet recovered from his screech.

Barty watched impassively and heaved a long, heavy sigh. Aldwyn flew back to his master with a pleading look. "I don't think you learned your lesson yet, Aldwyn. Winky can restore your voice later."

The owl's eyes widened and his mouth opened ajar. Then, he pouted and flew off to who knows where.

"What would you likes to eat, master Barty?" Winky asked as she pulled out a couple pots and pans. "An omelet? Bread and butter?"

"Anything's fine," he said as he brewed a cup of coffee.

After he finished up his food, Barty got himself ready for work. The creak from the floorboards down the hall told him that his father had just awoken. Mr. Crouch emerged into the kitchen fully dressed and hair combed back with gel keeping the stray hairs in place (so apparently he didn't just wake up).

"Coffee?" Barty offered.

The man took the cup and drank from it, not giving him a second thought.

Winky placed an omelet on the table and resumed her usual duties of sweeping and tidying.

"Time to go," he announced. "Where's my coat?"

The sun had just started to rise when they got out the door.

Aldwyn stayed at home to make up with Winky, in hopes of getting his voice back from her. There was a scheduled meeting the next day with a few Death Eaters, one Barty was anxious to miss but, unfortunately, could not.

The atmosphere of the Ministry was completely off; there was a doom and gloom more extreme than normal. People were terrified, and it wasn't hard to figure out why.

"They escaped," was all his coworker said to his father. "The- the Death Eaters escaped."

"Calm down," Mr. Crouch said to the woman. "Who were they?"

"I-I don't know!" she cried. "But my husband was taking the night shift last night and he- he…"

"Alright, calm down," the minister whispered. "When did this happen?"

"Three in the morning," another coworker said. His eyes were red and he hid the tears threatening to fall. "It was at three in the morning." he repeated.

Mr. Crouch nodded solemnly and rushed to his office, leaving Barty alone with grieving families and friends of the fallen. He hadn't gotten close to any of them, although they tried to get him to open up. He could barely remember the faces of the people dead on the floor, nevermind what their names were. If tarps weren't covering them, he would have stayed behind to analyze, not to grieve.

But he had other things in mind than collecting empirical information.

One of said Death Eaters was Emma Vanity. If she was freed, he was at risk. 'No. She didn't see my face. She doesn't know who I am.' But still, they are now aware of him in general. He really should have stayed out of it, but with Alice out of the field, no one played the role of scout. It made him reckless, sure, but they needed to be flexible. Someone was going to look into it and find something out in the end.

More and more officials came to work, some already informed while others arrived shocked. If the Ministry, one of the most protected buildings in the Wizarding World, covered with powerful spells and repulsion charms, was intruded, then what could protect anyone from the Death Eaters? Any unauthorized entry would have been catalogued, but nothing was left behind to research.

Barty was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear someone come up behind him until they placed a hand on his shoulders. He jumped up, turned around, and pulled out his wand all in one fluid motion.

"Woah, Bart," Frank said, holding up his hands in peace. "Are you alright?"

Barty blinked and slowly lowered his wand. "Yeah."

Frank bit his lower lip. "One of the Death Eaters said that Moldy Shorts was going to free them and I didn't listen. I should have warned them that-"

"It wasn't your fault," Barty cut in. He let his logical side take control where his fear threatened to force his mind into hysteria. "Whoever let them go wasn't he-who-must-not-be-named, though. There's no way he would have come personally for a novice squad. He must have either sent someone or they had help from the inside."

"I wish I was here," Frank said. "I could've stopped it. I could have helped."

"You could have died," Barty quipped. "But you weren't here and neither was I. What we need to do is figure out who broke them out of custody and how much they know."

"What do you mean 'how much they know'?"

Barty rubbed his eyes and sighed. "They must have learned something from our encounter. I was being too reckless. I didn't take into account that they would be freed. In fact, I didn't think they could be freed in the first place."

There was a prolonged silence that followed. Frank nodded toward his office after what felt like an eternity. "Let's go somewhere away from the crowd. We can talk it out."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Do you know the identities of the Death Eaters from last night?" asked Barty once they entered Frank's office and riddled the room with privacy spells.

"Yeah. Emma Vanity, you probably remember her (Barty nodded), Elwin Tuft, Scarlet Ross, and Simon Wilkes."

"Did you know any of them?"

Frank nodded uncomfortably. "Wilkes was an… acquaintance of mine back at Hogwarts. He, Rosier and I were friends during our first to third years until you came around. We were quite the troublemakers, now that I think about it. Similar to the Marauders-"

"You didn't know he was a Death Eater, did you?"

Frank stopped and sighed. "No. To be honest, I completely forgot he existed," he said.

Barty nodded and glanced at the papers on Frank's desk. "How's Alice doing?"

"She's almost due," Frank said with pride.

"Good. The sooner she can get back on the field, the better."

The brunette chuckled and ruffled Barty's hair, messing it up quite thoroughly. "I thought you were going to say something like: 'I can't wait to meet the baby.'"

"As if. A baby would only prove to be a nuisance. We are at war, you can't afford giving the opposing side leverage."

Frank frowned and leaned back against his desk. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'd say that they would try their hand at disposing of Thomas again soon, although I can't be certain. If nothing else, you're their first target."

A knock interrupted their conversation and prompted them to stop altogether. Frank cleared his throat and pushed off from his desk to a standing position. The privacy charms were dismissed at the moment. He glanced at Barty, who was silently chanting a disillusionment charm on himself, and spoke up so the person on the other side could hear him. "Come in."

The door opened slightly to reveal a familiar black-haired acquaintance. "Sorry to intrude, Longbottom."

Barty straightened up and stared at the man, despite knowing that he couldn't be seen. He made as little noise as possible and made it to the other side of Frank, so that the tall brunette was between himself and the endearing colleague.

"Rosier," Frank greeted as if he had nothing better to do.

Rosier raised an eyebrow and sighed. "You do realize that there was a break-in last night. It is beyond me how anyone could act so… impassive."

Frank shook his head and stared at the clock hanging on his wall just above Rosier's head. "I would say that it's nothing we haven't seen before, but I suppose I would be lying. It's true that the Ministry was infiltrated, but it was only a matter of time."

Evan nodded and walked up to him. "I'd be careful, if I were you. I heard you were the one to bring the four in. If they escaped, they'll be after you. Of course, it is up to you whether you do something about it or not." Barty noticed the way his eyes looked around the room as if he were expecting someone was listening.

"Why bother talking to me after five years just to warn me about something obvious?" Frank asked, crossing his arms. "What happened to being a 'blood traitor'?"

"Believe me, you and I have a common enemy. You-know-who is a man who only cares for power and status. He does not care about the roles at which blood purity plays."

Barty held back a scoff. Evan Rosier, a prideful pure-blood, saying that Lord Voldemort was an enemy. If there was anything he learned from his time at Hogwarts, it was that 1) Evan Rosier was not an ethical person. He believed in having fun.

Rosier turned for the door and had a hand on the knob. "Send my regards to Alice, would you. I hear she's expecting a child soon."

2) He was manipulative.

Frank casted a series of silencing charms around the room and slumped into his chair. "You can come out now."

3) He knew how people think.

Barty expelled the charm and spoke with a scowl on his face. "He's planning something."

"Obviously," Frank sighed. "He wouldn't have come if he didn't have something up his sleeve. You and him are actually quite similar, now that I think about it."

"Against you, Frank. He's not trying to help," Barty clarified, earning him a confused look.

4) He was dangerous.

-.-.-.-.-.-

On Wednesday, July 30, Neville Longbottom was born. It was a day of celebration, despite the war around them and the threat of death everywhere they went. Barty was alerted of the occasion and was invited to Alice's hospital room after labor.

"Neville?" Barty asked from his seat at the edge of the room.

Alice was holding the sleeping child in her arms and smiling at him sweetly. "That's his name."

Frank was crying at the bedside and had a tiny hand wrapped around his index finger. "I can't, Alice. My heart hurts and—"

"You will be a great father," she assured him, only for him to bury his face in the blanket, "as soon as you grow up."

"You need to leave him here for a few days before you can take him home with you," Barty said, standing up to walk out. "I'll see you two later, then."

Cooing from the awoken baby prompted Alice to stop him. "Wait. Say hello to Neville before you go, won't you?"

Barty stopped at the door and let a soft smile slip on his face as he turned to the newborn baby. "Hello, Neville. Don't expect me to share your parents. You've already had Alice for a full nine months."

Alice laughed. "We might need another hand to keep him in check. Don't be surprised if you are forced to babysit."

"I'll be sure to bring Aldwyn and Winky. Winky has had experience taking care of uncivilized toddlers."

Neville reached up to Barty with his free hand and spat incomprehensible nonsense that sounded like either an agreement or a cleverly disguised insult. The blond vaguely wondered if Winky could speak baby too. It would be nice to have a translator to distinguish between the two.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The next day at work wasn't a pleasant one. While Alice was still in the hospital, serving her last day and safely out of harm's way, the Ministry was infiltrated.

An attempt on Bartemius Crouch's life was made and, thankfully, stopped.

Immediately after, he gave his son another assignment to work out. The assaulter was able to escape, which worried Junior in two ways. One: there was a breach in security, which had been proven with this new attack. Two: the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department wasn't the only one who was attacked.

In the middle of looking through files and cases, Barty decided to check on the others who were targeted, namely Frank Longbottom. He opened the door to find the office empty. The papers were strewn across the floor in a messy arrangement. Actually, it could hardly be called an arrangement.

"Frank?" Nothing.

Barty bolted out the office door and ran right into the man walking across. It wasn't Frank.

"Sorry, mate. I—" the man stopped when he looked at the mess inside the office through the closing door. "What were you doing in there? Were you stealing something?"

"No. I was looking for Frank," Barty answered quickly, recovering from the abrupt interruption.

"I saw him a little while ago," the man said, raising an eyebrow. "You're Crouch's son, right?"

"Yes."

"Junior?"

"Yes. Where's—"

"You look like him, that's why I asked."

"Sure. Where's—"

"Except you've got lighter hair. You've got his eyes, though."

"That's great. Where's—"

"He never really talked about you, ya know?"

"Listen, I'm in a hur—"

"He's a great man, mate. Great man."

"Where's Fran—"

"Does his job right, that he does."

"I need to know wh—"

"Although he's trying to allow the usage of curses, you know. It's like fighting fire with fire."

"Yes, I know. And— wait. What?"

The man crossed his arms. "Oh yeah, he said so this morning. It hasn't been made official yet, but it'll be drafted tomorrow. If the Ministry agrees with it, it will go public."

Barty shook his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm saying that Crouch, your father, is trying to ratify using the curses against the Death Eaters," he said slowly. "You got that?"

"I… what?"

"Oh, there's Longbottom."

Barty jumped at the name and turned around to where the man was pointing. Frank was coming from another office and was talking with an auror at the door. It looked urgent, so Barty waited. The man continued on his merry way without a care in the world (besides the war, of course; everyone is frightened by the prospects of war).

When Frank finally finished his conversation and returned to his own office, he asked Barty a silent question. It was not picked up by the younger of the two, but he answered it as soon as Frank closed the door anyway.

"I don't know who the infiltrator is, but I think I know the identity of the mole."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"You can't be serious," Frank said with a groan, looking through the files with disinterest. "You really think anything could be found in these? These court cases are ancient!"

Barty rolled his eyes and picked up another file to examine. "There must be some sort of clue in one of these. Plus, the most recent update was yesterday, so they aren't ancient in any sense of the word."

Frank raised an eyebrow at Barty, and while he couldn't see him, he could feel him glaring at the back of his head. "Fine. Some of them are ancient," he caved, satisfying the idiot behind him. "I need unwavering proof before you present it to court."

Frank put the papers down and glanced at his friend. "Me?"

"Who else? Unless Alice can come by and pick up on everything she's missed, alongside nurturing your child and Order work, then you're the only option. It's not like I need to stick my head out there. The target on your backs are vast enough to cover mine," Barty countered. "Here. Take this."

"What is it?" Frank asked before reading the title. "'Theon Rosier Declared as Death Eater'. Evan's dad?"

"Yeah. You two may have been close before this whole mess, but I'm afraid you don't know all you should about who he is now. Listen to this," Barty said. "Vinda Rosier, Evan's great-grandmother, was part of Grindelwald's cult as one of his most trusted. Minette Lestrange née Rosier, also a follower of Grindelwald. Druella Black née Rosier, an associate to known Death Eaters. Felix Rosier, his cousin, is a confirmed Death Eater."

"I get it, Bart. You can stop."

"Associating with these people could have seriously affected his disposition. It isn't healthy."

Frank sighed and threw the file back to Barty, who had yet to find the evidence he was searching for and was not paying attention to the folder heading his way. As a result, he was unceremoniously whacked in the head by the soaring papers.

Truth be told, Frank wanted to remind Bart that people are not defined by their family. He still believed that Evan had good inside him, or that he wasn't a Death Eater at all!

"You can't be too sure that Evan's gone whack."

"He's dangerous, Frank. We have to be careful."

"Don't you have enough information, yet?"

Barty scoffed. "I can't call him out based on a hunch. Association won't cut it either, no. I need something bigger, like—"

"Like if you caught him red-handed? Yeah, you might not be able to do that, Bart. Think about it. You're smart, but not that smart." Frank quickly rose his hands in defense. "No offense, by the way."

Barty stopped rummaging through the files and turned to his friend with a grim grin. "You know, that just gave me an idea."

-.-.-.-.-.-

The Next Day:

"Remind me why I'm here," Alice grumbled. "I thought my first day back would be more exciting."

Frank hummed something before answering, although his answer was hardly coherent. It took some time before his words were processed through her mind. "Laying low until Bart's ready." he said through muffled gurgles that rivaled the cohesiveness of a newborn.

"God. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were speaking baby."

"How'd I do, princess? Should I take lessons from Neville?"

Alice rolled her eyes and plopped into her seat. It had been ages since she had done any field work, so her first day was supposed to be spent in front of her desk. The stuff she hated and found unnervingly depressing. "What are we going to do?"

Frank stopped writing and looked up with a stupid grin, the worst she had ever seen him make. "This may be the craziest idea Bart's ever come up with."

Alice frowned at him. "So, when are we going to pull this crazy plan?"

"Tomorrow."


	5. One Step Ahead

**Chapter 5: One Step Ahead**

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm sorry for the short chapter and I apologize if I'm rushing. Thank you for the reviews and I hope you enjoy. (Spoiler: You won't be able to see Barty's plan in action. I thought I'd let you all know in case anyone was looking forward to it.)

* * *

Rosier sighed and slumped into his seat. He wasted all that time to grant Wilkes entry into the Ministry for nothing. Not only did he fail to kill Crouch senior, and subsequently legalizing the use of curses, he failed to silence Longbottom.

This was the last straw. Had it not been for Frank's most recent meddling with the assassination of that squib, Arabella Figg, Evan would have considered letting him continue his worthless struggle against the Dark Lord.

Not only did he save that good-for-nothing, but Evan had a gut feeling that Longbottom was the reason why the horde of aurors showed up to Azkaban on the exact date and time a planned breakout was to be carried out. Rather than increasing their numbers to what it once was, the number of faithful Death Eaters dropped. Being an office official instead of an auror, Evan wasn't notified of this until the day of, when it was too late to warn his fellow followers of the Dark Lord.

He wanted to give his childhood best friend a chance, but it seemed as though that chance was wasted.

Then Wilkes just went and ruined yet another chance to get rid of him. Honestly, Evan was beginning to think that if anything was to be done, he'd have to do it himself.

Another consequence regarding the miserable failure was increased security and the attention of a certain someone who never paid him much attention.

Bartemius Crouch Junior had yet to slip up enough to prove he was in leagues with the Order, but now that his friend was personally targeted, there would be no doubt as to what he'd do. According to his mannerism, it would have seemed as if he would have continued life as it was, but Evan knew better. The little birdy was anything but idle.

In fact, much like how Evan knew of Crouch's involvement, Barty must have known about his. If not before, then certainly now.

The papers on the desk remained untouched for some time while he pondered what he wanted to do. He could kill the little birdy… no, that would be too plain. He could try torturing his mind or send him to Azkaban.

Yes! How beautiful that would be. It was a plan worthy of being planned.

What to do with the Longbottoms? Ah, kill them. Not directly though, that would be boring. What was a war if you couldn't have some fun?

Evan took out his wand and examined it before casting a spell over and over. It was a personal spell that rivaled the Unforgivables themselves. It was similar to controlling someone else, but through a tasteful method. Whereas the Imperius Curse took hold of the body and left the mind wandering, his spell would take hold of the mind and let the body move freely.

Imagine feeding a thought into your victim. A thought so powerful that it could disrupt perceptions of the world. It could convince you that your skin was burning or that your spouse was a hideous monster hellbent on ravenging through the fridge for a midnight snack.

If the public knew of it, it could gain the name of an Unforgivable!

The violet light of the spell filled the room, harmlessly fading away before coming back brighter. The spell bounced off reflective surfaces, like glass and mirrors, but was absorbed by dull things, dangerously jumping to and fro without a proper destination in mind. Had the detection charm been any later in alerting him, Evan would have struck his guests. While it wasn't bad if he did, he figured it wasn't the best idea. It was better to keep them thinking he was Evan Rosier and not a green alien from outer space, or something equally as disturbing.

"Evan," one of the intruders called, entering without being told she could. "What happened?"

Rosier spun in his chair to meet his guests' gazes with an annoyed expression. "Ask him, he's the one who messed up."

"Hey. I only messed up because you failed to tell me that the Ministry of Magic is a bloody _labyrinth_!" Wilkes growled. "Thanks for letting me in through the room with twelve doors of all places!"

"I gave you a spell to use. It pointed to exactly where you needed to go," the black haired man retorted, unimpressed.

"Except you forgot the fact that maybe my wand wasn't working because of, oh I don't know, that duel with Moody back at Azkaban!" Wilkes stormed in from the doorway and stood above his partner. "You told me that the spell was simple enough to be casted with a broken wand."

"Was it not?"

"Oh, it was worse than 'not working.' It gave away my position! I had ten minutes to deal with a whole list of people, when half of the time I spent trying to find my way out of that blasted room!"

Emma decided that then was a good time to intervene. She stood between the two and held up her wand, threatening Simon with a nasty jinx if he tried anything. As soon as he calmed down enough, she faced the other man. "Not all of us are skilled in spellcasting in the way that you are, Evan. Take note of that. You might be able to make the impossible possible, but we can't."

"Not even _he_ can do the impossible, Vanity. He may think he can, but he can't," Wilkes interrupted.

"Are you done? As much as I would like to indulge you in this pitiful excuse of conversing, I'm afraid we have more pressing issues to handle," Rosier sighed. "I'm sure Crouch is on to me. If not, then I would be sorely disappointed."

"Right. Everything is a game to you, isn't it?" Wilkes scoffed.

Emma hushed him immediately. "Simon. You're not helping."

"Well neither is he!"

"Aren't you forgetting whose house we are in? I opened my chimney to allow us to communicate in person, and I could just as easily cut my ties with you lot," Rosier reminded.

Emma frowned at the thought, but refrained from saying anything. Simon, on the other hand, started laughing. "That's rich! You think you could just get rid of us? Tuft and Ross, sure, but _us_? You must be mental if you think it's as simple as that."

Evan grinned, but said nothing.

"You're plotting something," Vanity noted. "Something the Dark Lord doesn't know."

"One last thing before I leave that dump," Rosier agreed. "It's not like I'm needed in the Ministry anyway, there are quite a few capable of doing something as mundane as collecting information. There are a few in positions higher than mine."

"Oh yeah? What are you planning?" Simon asked, crossing his arms. "If you want to do this and abandon your post in the Ministry, then it must be big."

He shook his head. "It's not anything outrageous. I'm just playing with someone. It's a bout of who can ruin the other's life first." He then turned to his partners with his signature grin, ignoring the tension in the air as if it had never been there in the first place. "I believe you two will have as much fun as I will."

Both Wilkes and Vanity hesitated to ask what he was planning to do. It wasn't everyday that Evan Rosier chose to actively participate in a scheme. For all they knew, the man was planning on taking the entire Ministry single-handedly.

"So… when is this plan of yours taking place?" Wilkes asked, already knowing the answer. When it was Rosier planning something, they always carried it out the day after. Evan didn't trust them enough to wait any longer, especially with ears everywhere. The sooner they act on it, the less time the other party has to react.

"Tomorrow."

-.-.-.-.-.-

From the corner of his vision, Evan caught sight of Alice. He smiled to himself as he continued walking, whilst looking through a scroll of paper to keep his eyes from straying, and ignored the cautious glances from Frank. It only confirmed that he and the little birdy talked and came to conclusion that he was an infiltrator. An active one as well.

Out of all the people working with the Dark Lord, they chose _him_. What a coincidence. Out of all the people working with the Order of the Phoenix, he chose _them_.

Most of his fellow Death Eaters who managed to take hold of a position did next to nothing when it came to involvement. They liked to gather information quietly, secretly, and safely. Up until summer, he was just like them. It just never occurred to him until then that what he was doing was boring. Completely and utterly _boring_.

Before long, he was in the safety of his office. Evan glanced over the reports that came in that morning, many of which spoke of insignificant squabbles happening somewhere on a muggle street. The reports weren't directed to him, but it was customary to file them once his superior was done reading through them. He scowled and flicked his wand, willing the papers and scrolls to fly into the fireplace.

That night, he, along with Vanity and Wilkes, would rid the world of the _darling_ Longbottoms. It wouldn't be easy, but they _will_ manage. It was _his_ brilliant plan, after all.

It was no master creation or the stuff of legends. It was simple and precise. Truth be told, Wilkes had been disappointed when he heard of what it was. Emma wasn't unwilling, yet she wasn't all in either. He understood why, and he didn't judge.

He never judged someone else's weakness, although he would complain strenuously when given the chance. Humans were humans, regardless of the purity of their blood.

Evan took out a piece of paper and proceeded to writing a letter. A letter directed to his beloved headmaster from his time in Hogwarts. On it was a time and place, nothing more and nothing less. He didn't write his name and made sure to write in Alice's handwriting. He'd seen enough of her documented essays to know how she writes and enough of the intercepted owls to know what is written.

The slip of paper was then tucked into an envelope and sealed. With it, he departed his office and headed to the Ministry's owlery.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Alice held her breath as she heard Barty's plan through Frank. What he said as a forewarning was an understatement. It wasn't just crazy, it was absolutely _mental_. How were they even supposed to pull it off? One wrong move and they could all end up dead or shipped off to Azkaban. Not even the Order would be able to save them.

"So… you're saying we should… use Barty as bait and—"

"—and not only reveal his status as Death Eater, but tick off enough Moldy Shorts followers to cause a ruckus."

"I thought he didn't want a target on his back."

"He didn't, at first, but apparently it's necessary for his plan to work."

"Where's this happening?"

Frank huffed out a sigh and stretched his back. "Here, in the Ministry of Magic."

Alice shook her head to clear her thoughts from the various 'what if this goes wrong' scenarios, failing miserably. "A trial like that wouldn't attract that many people. It's not even guaranteed that there will even _be_ a trial."

"Not unless 1. it's broadcasted that 'Bartemius Crouch Junior turned bad' and 2. he tell his old man ahead of time. Think about it. The head of the Department's son being a Death Eater? If Senior's going to act as judge, many would at least want to see his reaction. If we do this right, Senior would understand our goal and play along."

"But that idea could take weeks to carry out, even if we _do_ start tomorrow. We don't have that time! Rosier would see through it as if it were made of glass… or something." Alice took a deep breath and clenched her fists. "There's also a chance that Rosier won't even fall for it. I don't like this."

Frank frowned and stood up from his seat, taking a crate of smuggled wands to get checked in. It wasn't either of their specialties, so having someone else file the incident and watch over the items would be a blessing. "I don't either. But I can't exactly think of anything else. It all depends on Bart and whether he can pull it off."

"Are you sure Barty's okay with this? Isn't there a safer option?"

"You know how he gets when he sets his mind on something. In this case, he wants to expose Rosier. We can't stop him, so we may as well support him," Frank said. "Truth be told, I really hope Evan's a Death Eater, for Bart's sake."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Night fell and Evan's plan was slowly falling into place. In a few hours, everything would be good and done. The letter must have reached his old headmaster by now. All that was left was getting all three of his victims to appear there at a specific time.

The fluttering wings of an owl was his answer. He could recognized that bird from anywhere, since it had a habit of joining quidditch practice every now and then. It was his signal that his plan was set in motion and it made his smile spread to the point of disfigurement. Well, almost.

The home to the Longbottoms was right there, in front of him, asking (pleading) to be burned down. He had to resist casting a fiendfyre.

"Avada Kedavra."

The owl fell.

No sooner after it dropped on the house with a sickening thump did a green mark blaze through the air, hovering over the establishment. It shouldn't take the little birdy long to deduce what happened. In no time at all, he'd snap and apparate here with wand ablazing. It had been a while since Evan duelled, but that wasn't going to stop him. Nothing can stop him. He wasn't even sure if he could stop himself.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know that Barty said he didn't want his head on the line before, but he's getting a bit more desperate. When he realized that the missing piece to solving the Rosier problem was to catch him red handed, he knew that he had to get involved, in a risky way.


	6. The End of the Beginning

**Chapter 6: The End (of the Beginning)**

* * *

Aldwyn scavenged the terrain and turned up empty handed. He knew his master was in a bad mood, so he searched the site once again. Winky, that house elf, had agreed with a proper truce. If she didn't speak to him, he wouldn't speak to her. Their fights dropped to a minimum and they only barely acknowledged one another unless it had something to do with their shared master.

The sky darkened with heavy clouds ready to drown the earth below at any moment. It bothered him whenever the sky darkened. Aldwyn hated getting wet, it made him feel heavy.

It had only been a day since the escape incident at the Ministry, a matter of which the owl couldn't care any less. However, it was a problem for his master, so it became his problem as well, no matter how much he wished it wasn't.

He flew back into his master's office through a window that was left opened just for him.

"Nothing," his master muttered as he tore through parchment after parchment in search for clues. Aldwyn couldn't understand what it was that he was searching for, but he knew it was important. "There's nothing."

He nudged him with his head and pecked at his hands.

"Oh. Hey, Aldwyn. Got anything for me?" he asked, not looking up from the scrolls and rolls of parchment.

The owl shook his head and snapped at his hands again.

"Stop it. I'm trying to concentrate," his master said. The clarity in his voice drained out of him by the first word. "I need to focus."

The owl pursued. It had been almost two days since his master last slept, a habit the owl hadn't seen since their time at Hogwarts, where the NEWTs or OWLs drove him to pull several all-nighters.

"Aldwyn," his master warned, although the threat was lost in between his disgruntled gibberish and maxed drowsiness.

It was late evening, with most daytime officials going home to rest while the nighttime shifts began. People looking inward would assume he was working overtime on a project or a case.

The owl straightened up and slammed his beak into his master's left hand (he was careful to avoid damaging his wand arm).

"Ow! What the hell—"

Aldwyn hooted at him and he groaned. "A few more minutes."

" _You said that five hours ago!"_ the owl hooted exasperatedly. He flapped his wings and started to pull his master by a beakful of hair. _"I am getting you home, if that's the last thing I do!"_

"Okay, okay, I'm going!"

Nevertheless, the great horned owl did not stop until his master cleaned up his spot and left the building. He flew ahead by a few meters and kept an eye on the dark clouds overhead.

After what seemed like five minutes, the owl heard his master ruffle through his briefcase and curse something unintelligible. "Aldwyn!"

The bird swooped down to his master's head and perched there, awaiting orders.

"I left a few papers on my desk and I need to consult with the Longbottoms. Meet me there," he said softly, in case enemies lurked in the shadows.

Aldwyn nodded slightly and flew off into the sky, flying towards the familiar house. He sensed something strange about it, for whatever reason, and flew in circles above it. Landing seemed too dangerous at the moment. The clouds chose that time to let loose, raining over the ground below. Aldwyn flapped his wings and stared up at the sky in indignation.

A green light flashed at him and everything went dark.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Barty was on his way back to the Ministry with two goals in mind: find the papers regarding the outline of his plans and get some coffee. He was practically running on caffeine, drinking a cup of the beverage once every two hours. He didn't particularly like it, but it worked wonders, so he didn't mind.

He thought back to his fourth-year at Hogwarts, when Rosier was said to have "turned Death Eater" and chosen the wrong side of the war. Ever since he started working at the Ministry, the fact was seemingly forgotten. He got along swimmingly with the muggleborn staff. Basing his words on the past impulses a teenage Slytherin would have had was nothing in court. It would have been so much easier, although he did have Barty fooled while he worked at the Ministry.

After successfully retrieving the papers and making a quick stop to get some much needed coffee, he set out to the Longbottoms' home. He didn't trust himself enough to apparate, since his tired brain could end up sending him to Barcelona, Spain. The Longbottoms had a closed chimney, as suggested by none other than himself for safety purposes, so he couldn't use the floo network. In addition to that, the broom Frank gave him all those years ago broke because of a fight between a certain owl and house elf. He never really found it necessary to get a new one since he only ever used his old one to play Quidditch.

He was really regretting his choices at this point.

To Barty's surprise- although he really should have paid more attention to the weather- it started drizzling. A simple Impervious spell protected his clothes, bag, and cup, keeping the rain at bay and his possessions dry.

He had walked a good three blocks when a bright, green icon he knew all too well appeared in the sky a distance from where he stood. An emblem he had grown used to as a sign of danger and threat. An insignia that he casted into the air quite a few times himself.

It was the Dark Mark.

He ran, coffee and drowsiness forgotten. Barty didn't let anything process before running, it was purely instinctual. Once he realized where it was, he apparated.

By the time his cup crashed on the pavement, Barty was already at the doorsteps of the house, wand at the ready. He was no longer running on caffeine, but on adrenaline. Pure and terrifying adrenaline. He was being rash, he understood that, he _knew_ that he was. That didn't stop him in the slightest. There was only one person he could think of who would target his friends so boldly.

The moment he arrived, a violent purple streamed past him from behind, which he narrowly dodged. He held up his wand toward the direction it came from, attempting to cast a few protection spells in front of him in case he was attacked again.

In the end, it didn't matter.

The violet returned, reflecting off glass and hitting him in the back. He prepared for the effects to kick in, possibly some jinx or dark spell—

Something was wrong. The spell didn't hurt him and his body was fine. What was strange, however, was the fact that no one was standing near the area it came from. An invasive thought found its way into his mind, one he couldn't define. For the first time in a long, long time, Bartemius Crouch Jr. was afraid. Everything was blurred and hazy, as if his mind was about to shut down in a matter of seconds. He didn't know what to do, and that rarely ever happened.

The screams and shouts from indoors jolted his mind back into reality, forcing his body to move on its own accord. The noise was so loud, it hurt. It took time for his mind to completely clear, but the haziness was replaced with panic. Had the house always been this _dark_?

Rather than using an Alohomora charm, he blasted the door open and bolted in, calling the names of his friends.

His plans may as well be thrown out the window. By the end of the night, the world will know which side he stands on, including he-who-must-not-be-named. His cover blown, his friends in danger, and none of that mattered.

No, it _did_ matter. Everything was at stake, what was he thinking?

He could hear a voice in the back of his mind, muttering endlessly. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was there, muttering.

He made it to the living room where he heard the screaming. The first face he saw wasn't Alice's, nor was it Frank's. It was Emma Vanity.

It was she who he pointed the tip of his wand at. If nothing else, he was going to protect his friends, his only friends. His only purpose in living at this point.

She said a few words and smiled at him. He blocked them out. Did she think he was loyal to he-who-must-not-be-named? She would be a true imbecile if she did.

Her back was toward him and she was aiming her wand at someone else, just out of sight. Then, her disbelief was imprinted in her face as he uttered the one spell he swore never to use. She really was an imbecile.

" _Stupe— Avada Kedavra!"_

Alice ran down the hall and pointed her wand at him, glancing at the body on the floor before lowering her hand. "Good job."

No questions asked.

"Wilkes is upstairs. Go help Frank, I'll send for help."

Not even a look.

"Good luck, Cr— Barty."

Was it the right thing to do? He hoped so. If she lived, there would be another attempt. But did that even matter?

Instead of reserving a part of his thoughts to decide, he made way to the base of the stairs, using a reinforcement spell on himself to boost his speed, forcing all distractions away. Distractions can get you killed, he learned that much from reading the files on failed captures.

"Crouch!" Frank called upon seeing him, skipping back as a red light struck the floorboards of where he stood mere moments ago. "All yours!" he shouted, getting behind the blonde.

Wilkes came running out of a room, aiming his wand at Frank and hesitated when he saw Barty. He opened his mouth, but before he could utter a spell, Barty struck.

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_ There was no reason to kill him. Not yet, anyway. Questioning the man could help them in the long run, especially if he gives a testimony against Rosi—

Something purple slithered past his peripheral vision as Wilkes stood there, smiling. The smile was crooked and corrupt. A twisted finger waved his wand, which was pointed at his friend behind him.

"Kill him!" Alice and Frank's voices yelled, ringing loud. Painfully loud.

It was too dangerous to let him live. Too dangerous, _too dangerous_. He should just die. That would keep them safe. Safe, _safe, danger._ _It's too dangerous_.

" _Avada—_ "

He could hear something in the back: a baby's cry and his friend's plea.

"— _kedavra."_ Then, the house went silent.

Why was the house so _dark_?

The crying of a child startled him out of his stupor. The house was no longer so dark. In front of him was Frank. His eyes were glazed over and his expression was full of disbelief and anger.

It was an illusion. It was _all_ an illusion. That means he killed both of his friends and let the real Wilkes and Vanity escape. How could he let this happen?

The weight of what happened collapsed on him as he fell to the ground, eyes wide and cloudy. Where was Aldwyn throughout all of this? If he were here, he could have gotten Barty out of it. A shrill shriek would have been more than welcome.

Did he kill him, too?

Why didn't he notice? How could he have been so careless?

Barely a second after he dropped his wand had passed before he was overwhelmed by aurors. Where were they a moment ago? They could have stopped him.

It was all too real to be a dream, or even a nightmare.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Moody was suspicious when Dumbledore told him two pieces of information: a time and a place. To be fair, however, he was always suspicious. It was customary that those were the only information given for any mission. He recognized the place as being the home of two fellow members of the Order. He was very keen on grasping every little detail about the people he was working with, including the younger ones. Distinctly the younger ones.

The rain proved to be inconvenient, but nothing he and his companions couldn't handle. His eyes scanned their surroundings as they arrived at their destination- particularly his magical one, which he still was not quite used to.

When he saw the Dark Mark hovering over the house, he knew they were too late. The first victim they found was a young man named Evan Rosier, an office worker for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. His face was etched in horror and his wand was broken beside him, just out of arm's reach.

Both Longbottoms were found dead in the house. Thankfully, the baby was unharmed. At least one person in the family escaped death to live another day.

When Bartemius Crouch Jr was brought out of the doors unconscious, Alastor felt relief. A witness was alive and could give an account to what happened that night. It wasn't until someone used a Reverse Spell on all wands present, as per custom of interrogation, that he took it back.

"Why did he use the Killing Curse?" a young auror asked, reaching out to the faint green light streaming from the wand's tip. "Why did he—"

"Break his wand. Take him to the Ministry and restrain him," Alastor commanded, to which the auror was snapped back into attention and complied. He walked past the doors, careful not to step on the broken wood scattered across the floor, and into the house, barking out orders. "You there, take care of the baby. You, you're in charge of Rosier's body. See to it that he is returned to his family for a proper burial. The rest of you, search the house. Remember: constant vigilance."

Dumbledore wasn't with them for the mission, although he rarely ever was. As the headmaster of the acclaimed Hogwarts and coordinator of the Order, he hardly had the time. Truthfully, Moody was glad he wasn't there that night. Hell, he wished he didn't have to see it himself, but there's nothing they could do now. It happened earlier than expected and they couldn't arrive early enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The hours spent in the waiting cell were far too long and agonizing. It gave Barty all the time he didn't want to let the reality of his crimes truly sink in, without any distractions. Not that he _wanted_ to go to Azkaban, but exposure to the Dementors would have been a good way of scrambling his brain to no return.

Normally, he would work on a new spell, potion, charm, or whatever it took to take his mind off of what he wanted to ignore. Sadly, that wasn't an option, so all that was left was the painful reminder that the two people he trusted the most were gone. Dead. Never to come back.

On top of that, his partner in crime, Aldwyn, was in no better state. All three returned to dust from whence they came.

So this was what if felt like to be lonely.

"Stupid!" he shouted, punching the wall. Truly, he was. Rosier was planning something and managed to succeed. He fell right into his hands.

Barty's eyes drooped and a wave of nausea hit him. He leaned against the wall and slowly lowered himself. It had been a while since he last had some decent sleep- not counting the recent, violent barrage of 'Stupefy's hours earlier- not that it really mattered to him at this point. His life was ruined. Everything he worked for, everything he fought for, and everything he lived for was taken from him in one fell swoop.

With luck, he wouldn't wake up once he closed his eyes. That would be a pitiful, yet merciful, way to end. Who knows? He might just get to meet up with Alice and Frank at the gates to the other side. That would be nice.

But as luck would have it, he woke the next day.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Bartemius Crouch Junior," the man began, staring down at his son from his seat. "You have been charged with murdering Evan Rosier and Alice and Frank Longbottom on Tuesday, the 5th of August 1980, and working with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to wreak havoc across the Wizarding World."

The jury watched in silence as the man continued. The young man in the cage did not say a word as the charges piled up. He didn't even appear to hear them. It only made him seem more guilty.

Moody listened and stared at the child he had once known, but no longer knew. It was so out of place to consider that he could have strayed so far. He once heard of how close he was to the Longbottoms ever since the boy's first year at Hogwarts. There was doubt that he would choose to kill them, but sadly, it wasn't uncommon. Moody had seen multiple cases where close friends betrayed one another.

War was devastating to the once peaceful time of the past, a past that would change dramatically in the future. Nothing stays the same, no matter how hard one tries to keep it constant.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" the man asked from his seat.

Junior hesitated to speak, but once he did, he couldn't take it back. Anything he said could be used against him. "It was no Imperius Curse, but I was tricked into… into killing Alice and Frank Longbottom. But Rosier—"

"He just admitted he killed them!" a woman shouted from the crowd, cutting him off. "He killed my son and daughter-in-law!"

"But he was tricked into doing it!" another woman countered. "My son is innocent!"

"The Death Mark on his arm says all we need to know!"

The crowd and jury aroused in agreement, believing in the guilt of the convicted. Junior listened with a grimace as they called for retribution. The judge could not do anything to appease them, not that he cared to.

"You have been sentenced to life in Azkaban," Mr. Crouch said with finality, not giving the jury a chance to vote when the outcome would be inevitably the same. "That will be all."

Junior accepted the punishment without speaking and let himself be dragged away.

-.-.-.-.-

Evan smiled when his plan fell into place. It was too easy, which was the problem. It was easy to the point of being boring. Still, it was fun to see the look on the little birdy's face when he realized what he had done.

A mole like Crouch was dangerous if Evan wanted the Great Cause to succeed. In all honesty, he couldn't care less about the 'Great Cause.' Sure, he once believed in it, but that was years ago. The true reason he remains loyal to the Dark Lord is for the _fun_ he gets out of it.

Why play a game of chess when he could play with the lives of _so many people_?

The sad thing was that the Longbottoms' home was so easy to infiltrate, it was as if he was invited. The protection charms did nothing to stop him. Every spell has a counterspell if you search deep enough for it.

All the known protection charms had proven null in front of Evan Rosier, a prodigy in charms whom had skills that matched the Dark Lord's with black magic. He was a master of the field and had little to no difficulty with anything related to it.

It was so hilarious, it made him sick.

Truth be told, the lookalike was a nice touch he didn't think of until Emma mentioned something similar just hours before the actual plan. Simon wasn't all that happy when Evan told him to dig up a grave, but didn't actually object. He used Polyjuice potion and a few charms, making sure that the replica didn't bear a Dark Mark since that would have been troublesome. Interestingly enough, Polyjuice potion works on the dead better than it does on the living. For all he knew, the corpse would still look like him in a century from now. Perhaps it was due to the lack of metabolism.

Emma was sitting in a chair opposite to him, playing with a white rose between her index finger and her thumb. The thorns had been torn off and the petals were stained with blood red splotches turned brown. "Mrs. Thomas had a good taste in flowers," she commented as she rotated the rose. "It's a shame she ruined it."

After Crouch's trial, she, Wilkes, Tuft, and Ross decided to go back to the Thomas' house to resume what they started. The poor blokes were just as unprepared then as the first time, except this time, they didn't have either Crouch or Longbottom to save them.

Evan hummed a response and continued to draw in his journal. The owl that Crouch had was beautiful; he had it stuffed and placed in the office of his house for good measure. The sketch of the great horned owl was nearly finished, it was only the eyes that he had trouble with.

Why was it so determined? Wouldn't it have been more fitting if it was swarmed with fear? Can something so small and insignificant truly feel that it has so much worth? The questions made Evan laugh.

That determination was wasted on an animal. Imagine what would happen if the world was filled with individuals with the same determination. It would make it more fun, of course! Like owner, like owl.

A part of Evan's mind repeated the same scenario, a scenario that for whatever reason refused to be pacified. He had long since accepted the fact that the Longbottoms were traitor bloods, he learned that by the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts. What he couldn't figure out was why someone like Bartemius Crouch Jr—a former Slytherin, dark arts practitioner, and logical pureblood with so much in common with the Dark Lord—would actively act against them. It wasn't right, it was an anomaly. And what does Evan do with anomalies? Befriend them, mostly—but the little birdy was an exception

He recalled his quidditch times and remembered how gloomy the kid was. He would have made the perfect Death Eater if it wasn't for his loyalty to his friends. That damn loyalty! Evan was surprised he didn't get sorted into Hufflepuff! (Or Ravenclaw with his book nerdiness and perfect OWLs and NEWTS.) That loyalty was wasted on helping the side of _muggles_ when he rarely made contact with one. Still, it worked out in the end.

Bartemius Crouch Junior. That boy was more fun to ruin than all the others combined. If only he didn't let his emotions get the best of him. If only he showed a tad bit more of his intellect and made the task challenging. Oh, the sheer amusement he could get out of it!

"Do you think I should have let the little birdy play out his plan?" Evan asked, twirling his quill in his hand expertly while glancing at the papers with the plan outlines he happened to find on the streets. It didn't have a name and it was coded, but it didn't take long to figure out whose it was and what it said. "I'm bored."

Emma blinked at him and broke into laughter. "You're kidding right?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Did I rush this part? I really wanted to get the trial out of the way, then realized that I barely had anything planned for it, just that it happened. Thanks for being patient with me.


	7. The Alternative (not part of fanfic)

**Chapter 4: The Alternative (not actually part of the fanfic)**

* * *

 **A/N:** This is not an update to the actual story. This was an alternative route that the story could have gone before I scrapped it (since it wasn't going to lead to what I wanted and I had no idea how to continue from here). I loved this and I thought I should share it with you. I really regret not using this, since it alludes to some of the previous chapters.

It starts out in chapter 4, the morning after the breakout of Vanity, Wilkes, Tuft, and Ross. You might see some familiar conversations since I recycled them.

* * *

"Do you know the identities of the Death Eaters from last night?" asked Barty once they entered Frank's office.

"Yeah. Emma Vanity, you probably remember her (Barty nodded), Elwin Tuft, Scarlet Ross, and Simon Wilkes."

"Did you know any of them?"

Frank nodded uncomfortably. "Wilkes was an… acquaintance of mine back at Hogwarts. He and Rosier were my friends during my first to third years until you came around."

"You didn't know he was a Death Eater, did you?"

"No. To be honest, I completely forgot he existed." he said. "Which is sad, I must admit."

Barty flinched and instinctively gripped his forearm. "Great, just what I needed."

"What happened?"

He pulled up his sleeve and showed him the burning, jet black mark. "The Dark Lord is calling us."

"Us?"

"Me."

Frank ran his hand through his hair. "I thought the meeting was tomorrow."

"I thought so, too. But obviously, he has different plans."

Barty got himself ready to leave (it would not do to anger Lord Voldemort), only to be stopped by Frank. "Wait, I have something for you." he said, running over to his desk.

He pulled out a couple drawers and rummaged through pages of reports and descriptions of suspects before pulling out a pin. With pin in tow, he ran back to Barty and gave it to him.

"It's charmed. I'll be able to hear what's going on if you wear it. It only goes one way, though."

"Thanks, Frank." Barty said as he took the pin and conjured a mask to cover his face.

"Stay safe, Bart."

Frank watched his friend disappear from his office and slouched down into his armchair. He turned to the pair of earmuffs in the drawer and put them on. Alice had charmed the two items while she was on break weeks ago. She complained about not having enough to do and wishing she could contribute in some way, so she charmed them for Frank and Barty.

A noise that sounded like static greeted him, which was not what he was expecting. After a few seconds, it subsided and he heard the voices of dozens, or maybe even hundreds, of Death Eaters. He could hear Barty talking with someone, but couldn't hear them over the conversations of everyone else. It was like trying to eavesdrop on two people while in a school cafeteria. He took the earmuffs off to concentrate on his work and complete the filing assignment he'd been given for the day as a break from field work.

Once they quieted down into hushed voices, which he figured meant that Voldemort was present, he put the earmuffs back on.

"I am sure you are all wondering why I have gathered you all here today." a voice said to them that was unmistakingly the infamous Dark Wizard's. "I assure you, there is a reason to this. I have been informed that quite the number of you have been having, ah, trouble with your assignments. The Ministry will not interfere any longer. I have designed certain tasks for you all, individual missions to wipe them out."

Frank gulped and took a deep breath. The quill laid forgotten on his desk as he stood up and started pacing. He grimaced as Voldemort began calling out the names of people he knew (most were fellow aurors). His heart stopped when his and his wife's names were called.

They made it on Moldy Shorts's personal hit list. That was a far more attention than either of the two could bear.

"That's a lot of people." a witch whispered beside him. "Who's going to deal with them?"

"Are you new?" another witch asked her, her voice was far deeper and richer than the first. "You must be. You see, the Dark Lord speaks to those he wishes to carry out these tasks in private. Only he knows the identities of us all and he's planning on keeping it that way."

"Oh."

"Unless you join a smaller branch, or club, or whatever." the witch said. "You can come up with your own plans and discuss it openly."

"That's so cool!"

Frank winced at the young lady's enthusiasm. She sounded so innocent, yet the way she spoke made this war seem like a fun game to her.

"That is all." Moldy Shorts said to dispel the majority of them. He also said "There are a few that must stay."

Since Barty wasn't going anywhere, Frank assumed he was one of the few that stayed behind. The sudden lack of noise told him that the others had already disapparated.

"So who gets who?" a witch asked eagerly. "I call dibs on any mudblood."

"Bellatrix, behave yourself." a wizard scolded her.

"What? Don't tell me you don't want a mudblood, Rodolphus." Bellatrix squealed. "Oh! I have a new method I want to try out."

"You can choose whoever you please." the evilest evil wizard assured.

"Then I call Benjy Fenwick!" Bellatrix shouted.

"Dirk Cresswell!"

"Ted Tonks!"

Name after name was called, none of which shouted out his own. If only for a moment, he seemed forgotten. All the names were of muggle-born witches and wizards. It was sad to think that he would survive this through the blood of others. A part of him said he could defeat whoever wanted to challenge him, that he would be ready, but that was difficult. They could strike at any moment and he'd be unprepared.

"The Longbottoms." Barty said. It was as if relief washed over him. Frank's heavy burden had been lifted and he slouched back into his chair, which was more than welcoming.

"Not too fast, Crouch." a voice that sounded so familiar said. It was a pit in his stomach to hear it. His worry and dread came back after those first three words. "They're mine."

"There are plenty of other names to choose from."

"I want to be the one to dispose of my traitor blood friends. Plus, I don't want you to get sentimental when you face them, I know how _dear_ they are to you."

That was it. Frank felt pieces clicking into place. If Evan Rosier was the one to free the escaped yet-to-be-convicted convicts, then he knew something about Barty. It wasn't like him to miss any details.

"My lord, may I?" The dread was at its climax.

Frank pulled off his earmuffs and threw them across the room. He tried to remember the names of those who were called and scrambled over to his desk. With a quill, he wrote as many of them as he could. He had to warn them, it was the least he could do.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Barty wanted to protect his friends, his only friends. He wanted to be the one to "kill" them in order to grant them safety. The panic he had before overwhelmed him now. It wasn't about him anymore, it was for them. His friends. His family.

"I will be the one to kill them." Barty scowled at Rosier. "You will not interfere."

"He is right, though. You are attached to the Longbottoms." Igor Karkaroff grinned. "I would want nothing more than to watch their faces when you murder them-"

"But can he pull it off?" Rosier asked. Then, it was as if a light bulb lit up his head and he smiled sweetly. "Whatever. I'm only looking out for little Bartemius. I wouldn't want his feelings to get hurt."

Barty watched him with a careful eye. What was it that he was trying to achieve? If it was to kill his friends, this was a weird way to do it.

"I think that was all the names. Bummer." Rosier sighed. "I really wanted to hear their screams… Hey. Maybe I can."

So _that_ was it. Rosier wanted to come with him. That plan was not thought out well, but it was effective. If he denied his request to come, suspicion would spread. If he accepted it, the consequences could vary. First, he could lead Rosier into a trap and send him to Azkaban (which would raise the same amount of suspicion if he were safe while Rosier was not). Second, he could kill him (but the same situation would arise), or pretend he died as well (the target on the Longbottoms would only get larger). Third, he would fake the death of the Longbottoms (but where will they go?), perhaps live in muggle London or anywhere but there. Still, Rosier was not careless. He was a people person that knew how people thought and how they would act in certain circumstances. Even in quidditch, he came up with the best strategies solely on the basis of what he observed. He knew people by heart, and that was what made him terrifying.

Barty clenched his teeth as he ranted on.

"I can hear their screams and you can kill them. Brilliant!"

Conversations had broken out and some stopped to listen into theirs.

"You won't deny me that, now could you?"

Barty's hands balled into fists and he was really tempted to punch him for ruining his smooth running with avoiding any real conflict in the war. He held himself back, however, and slowly let his hands uncurl. He hid his spite and answered as aloofly as one could be in his situation. "I suppose I can't."

Rosier's grin spread. The world can be cruel sometimes. "Excellent. Now we can schedule a time whenever you're ready to do the deed. Don't take too long, though. I won't be able to wait."

They were dismissed and most returned to their homes or workplaces. Rosier stayed behind to chat with the Dark Lord, albeit not so casually as it may appear. Barty was quick to flee.

He apparated back into Frank's office only to find him missing. The chair was empty and the papers were strewn across the floor. It wasn't like that when he left.

"Frank?" Nothing.

Barty bolted out the office door and ran right into the man walking across. It wasn't Frank.

"Sorry, mate. I-" he stopped when he looked at the mess inside the office through the closing door. "What were you doing in there? Were you stealing something?"

"No. I was looking for Frank."

"I saw him a little while ago." the man said, raising an eyebrow. "You're Crouch's son, right?"

"Yes."

"Junior?"

"Yes. Where's-"

"You look like him, that's why I asked."

"Sure. Where's-"

"Except you've got lighter hair. You've got his eyes, though."

"That's great. Where's-"

"He never really talked about you, though."

"Listen, I'm in a hur-"

"He's a great man, mate. Great man."

"Where's Fran-"

"Does his job right, that he does."

"I need to know wh-"

"Although he's trying to allow the usage of curses, you know. It's like fighting fire with fire."

"Yes, I know. And- wait. What?"

The man crossed his arms. "Oh yeah, he said so this morning. It hasn't been made official yet, but it'll be drafted tomorrow. If the Ministry agrees with it, it will go public."

Barty shook his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm saying that Crouch, your father, is trying to ratify using the curses against the Death Eaters." he said slowly. "You got that?"

"I… what?"

"Oh, there's Longbottom."

Barty jumped at the name and turned around to where the man was pointing. Frank was coming from another office and was talking with an auror at the door. It looked urgent, so Barty waited. The man continued on his merry way without a care in the world (besides the war, of course; everyone is frightened by the prospects of war).

When Frank finally finished his conversation and returned to his own office, he asked Barty a silent question. It was not picked up by the younger of the two, but he answered it as soon as Frank closed the door anyway.

"I'm supposed to kill you and Alice."

Frank was relieved. No, that was an understatement. He rejoiced. "Fantastic. What's the plan?"

"Fake our deaths, obviously." Barty growled, not appreciating his all too joyful reaction. "And kill Rosier."

Frank's smile faded and his eyebrows stitched together. "What happened?"

"Rosier wants to come with me when I 'kill' you. I thought about it, one of the safest options would be to get rid of him and fake our demise."

"That doesn't sound _too_ hard."

"We could also call in as much backup as we possibly could." he continued. "I can stop pretending to be on their side."

"That sounds good, too."

"The targets will be far too big, though."

"I guess not."

Barry sighed and covered his face with his hands. "I don't want to be a part of this war anymore. I don't care about it. Maybe a quiet life in the middle of a muggle city isn't all that bad."

"Death Eaters target muggles. Wouldn't that be dangerous?"

Barty thought for a moment and pointed a finger at Frank. "We could try using a Fidelius charm. No one will be able to find us."

"Rosier would have thought of that… Everything we do is too predictable."

"But there's nothing else we _can_ do at this point."

Frank stared at the light on the ceiling. "When is it?"

"Next week on Sunday."

"Not long then."

"He wanted it tomorrow."

Frank chuckled. "He really wants us dead, huh. There's something off. It's as if he knows you're-"

"Spying on them." Barty finished.

Frank groaned and slapped his cheeks. "Okay, we can do this. Fake our deaths and… kill Evan." He shuddered. "Murdering someone in cold blood is- it feels wrong."

"We're at war, Frank. Nothing is considered 'done in cold blood' anymore, it doesn't apply. Think of it as self-defense." Barty countered. "Did you warn the others?"

"Yeah, but knowing won't help them, will it? These aren't novice squads, they're masters in Dark Magic and won't hesitate to use the Unforgivables. Sorry to say it, Bart, but compared to all the others, you're incredibly lacking. You _would_ hesitate. You _would_ spare someone if you could. But they-" he shook his head. "You may as well be fighting Moldy Shorts himself."

"Trust me, he-who-must-not-be-named is far worse."

"That doesn't help." Frank looked at the mess on the floor and sighed for the umpteenth time. He flicked his wand and watched the papers fly around the room and back into neat stacks. "I'll go tell Alice. Actually… you're coming with me."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Alice was on the couch messaging her round tummy. The fireplace burned a bright green, catching her attention. When it subsided, Frank emerged and gave her a warm hug. She smiled at him and kissed him. "How was work today? Boring as always? Any death threats?"

Frank's smile faded and he turned away. "Let's wait for Bart, shall we?"

"He's coming to visit? How sweet of him."

The fireplace burned on cue and Barty stepped out. "Good evening, Alice."

"It's been a while." she greeted. "What brings you here? Forgive me for assuming something bad had happened, but seeing as you've never come to visit before, it's the only explanation. I would have cleaned up the house had I known."

Barty proceeded to explain everything. From the night before, to the escapees, to the meeting. He told her the plan and the time, giving them something to prepare for. He spared no details on anything and allowed her to digest the situation. Frank cut in every so often to emphasize what Barty said, including the fact that Rosier was the one who was accompanying him.

"So we'll have to be very particular if we want to fool him." Frank said. "He knows how people think like the back of his hand."

"You sound like you've had experience with this."

"Sure did! He knew when I was lying and what I was planning on doing before I did it! It's like he can read your mind before you think!"

"Legilimency?" Alice asked.

"No. It's more like aghmphflthpthfffthlt."

"Very descriptive."

Frank frowned at her and squinted. "How are you so calm? I'm freaking out!"

"I'm not."

Barty listened to them talk and waited for them to let him continue. The clock showed seven in the evening and he really needed to catch up on work. Then again, in one week, he'll be presumed dead (or actually dead), so what was the point?

"I've been getting mood swings and you happened to catch me at my 'I-don't-care' mood. But, I _am_ freaking out."

"I'm going to die without ever seeing my child!" Frank shouted. "AAHHH!"

"At least you won't die a virgin." Alice jested.

"Could we stay focused?" Barty asked. "Frank, stop your incessant screaming."

"Why don't we ask Dumbledore for help?" Alice inquired, playing with her belly. "He could help."

"He can be secret keeper." Frank added. "I'll send him a letter as soon as Opal gets back from delivering that package to mum."

"Fine. I guess it's settled then."

"What about our families?" Alice asked. "My parents could be in danger."

"As can mine." Barty agreed. "But I'm done fighting this war. Father can protect himself, he won't need me. Mother should be safe at St. Mungo's."

"What about the Order?"

Barty grew impatient. "If you want to stay caught up in this mess, then be my guest. I don't care."

"Where will you go if we stay?" Frank asked.

"Anywhere but here."

Alice rose from her seat, fuming. "We can't just run away from our problems, Barty!"

"I'm trying to save my neck so I can live to survive past this. I would have thought you would too, given that you're pregnant with a new life."

"Then you don't know me, Barty. I will stand up for what I think is right, even if it kills me. I would have thought you would too."

"You may be brave and courageous, but there's a reason I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor."

Alice was about to say something, then shut her mouth. When she opened it again, her voice was softer. "What you've done so far has been-"

"What, brave? No it hasn't. I'm hiding away like a coward. I won't give my name to the Order because I fear something will go wrong. I can switch sides whenever I want if the tides of war shifts. I rarely trust anyone because I'm afraid of what they'll do to obliterate that trust. I can only handle so much, Alice, and I'm already at my breaking point. I don't find any of that brave."

Frank looked away from them to his hands as Alice continued to speak. "But there's reason for that fear. You _are_ brave, Barty. Probably the bravest man I know."

"Then you don't know me, Alice."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Evan found himself at the Longbottoms' well into the night, just short of bursting through the front door and scaring the living hell out of them. He peeked inside through a window and spotted several dangerous objects to avoid, but an otherwise welcoming residence. No lights were on and the silence was begging to be disrupted. He tapped his wand on the door and pulled it away with a grand motion.

" _Finite Incantatem._ " A fine layer of magic revealed itself and melted off the door, making the former alarm charm useless.

Bartemius Crouch Jr, a traitor to the Great Cause. If he was suspicious before, he was guilty now. The tracking spells that were put on him had 'Crouch' written all over it. He scoffed at the thought that he could be traced through such primary spells. For someone who got twelve OWLs and twelve NEWTs, Barty lacked insight.

He traveled around the house and continuously tapped his wand in a steady beat. He kept the time-turner around his neck, just as a precaution, and touched the hourglass encased by the golden rings. He located several charms and spells etched in all corners of the house through a pair of magic-induced glasses designed to see the outline of magic at work. It was a beautiful thing. Truly astonishing. He'd have to thank Emma for it later.

After disarming a number of alarms, he circled back to the front and gave the entrance a proper grin. Evan stretched his arms and walked right up to the door. " _Alohomora_."

The door failed to budge and he mentally slapped himself in the head. "Alright. Anti-Alohomora protection charm, good for them. _Portaberto._ "

Smoke came out of the keyhole and the lock splintered off. It was a rudimentary spell that left the lock damaged, and thus, easy to spot a breaking and entering. He loved the unlocking-charm; it had a nice ring to it and it was considerably more subtle. A quiet entry was by far better than the equivalent of melting off the doorknob.

It didn't make much of a difference in the end, since he fixed the lock with a swift ' _reparo'_.

The darkness of the halls greeted him as if he was a welcomed guest. Some of the items in the house were charmed with motion detecting security spells, which he steered clear of or confundused. The glasses allowed him to see well enough that he didn't need any light, which was better for him.

He brushed his hands against the curtains casually. The clock on the wall ticked each and every second that passed by, but it hardly annoyed him. Quite the contrary, he found pleasure in it. The little noise reminded him of how silent the entire house was and how easy his job would be. State of the art security was nothing to him. He could apparate on the very grounds of Hogwarts itself if he so wanted! (Not really, but he'd like to think that he could.)

And there it was, the door to his old friends. Death wasn't what he wanted for them; he had something else in mind, something related to a tale of betrayal and agony. Oh, how it thrilled him!

He tried to turn the door and found it locked once again. " _Portaberto._ " The spell bounced off the knob and sparked aimlessly in the air. A protection charm was surrounding the door, one he didn't see with his glasses until now. It became more than visible and shone a violent red color in reaction to his spell. It didn't look like a normal ' _protego'_ or _'repello'_. It was different, like that tracking charm placed on him that he barely realized was on him until-

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Evan's wand flew out of his hand and he felt the tip of another press against the back of his head. "To think I missed a little detail." Evan said with a grin as he put his hands up. "I got rid of all the other spells but that one."

"And ejected them to a wild cat, I know. Step away from the door, Rosier." Barty warned. Evan could feel the heat of a spell against his head.

"You seem to be forgetting something, Crouch."

The alertness in Barty spiked and his mouth opened to say something- but no sound came out. The shock gave Evan enough time to grab his discarded wand. The spell was wordless and wandless. Evan Rosier was a prodigy at spellcasting, a fact that was greatly underestimated. It was safe to say that he rivaled Albus Dumbledore himself without the experience and vast knowledge, although that was debatable. If anything, he was like the great wizard in his younger days. (What? Even Evan acknowledged the man's skills. He truly was an admirable wizard.)

"So close, Crouch. You should have just killed me. It's too bad that you never did like the Unforgivables."

A red spell shot from the tip of Barty's wand, only to be deflected against the shielded door.

"And since this isn't working out for you, you should really just give up and die." Evan suggested as if it were the obvious thing to do. "But lucky for you, I have another plan, one that does not include you dying."

He held up his time-turner for Barty to see and turned it back for five hours. Just before a green spell could hit him, he vanished.

-.-.-.-.-.-

 **7 o'clock:**

Emma frowned at Evan as he asked for her magic-seeing glasses. "Whatever do you need them for?"

"It's for a plan."

She crossed her arms with no intent on retrieving the requested item. "A plan that is overly extravagant, I presume."

Evan smirked and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "You presume correctly."

"Great. What is it this time?"

"You make it sound as if I've done something wrong."

"You are going to mess up, and so help me, I will beat your sorry arsehole."

His smirk turned into a twisted smile as he accepted her threat. "Will you lend them to me or not?"

"I will, but why can't you go the easy route and just kill whoever it is you're trying to mess with?"

He began striding around the room and examined the dusty shelves. "Because I love complicated plans that lead to hearts shattering." Evan explained. "And because it's fun watching it all play out."

Emma sighed exasperatedly. " _Accio_ glasses." she said. The pair of rectangular glasses flew to her from behind a stack of books and she caught them with practiced ease. She handed over them over to Evan slowly and sceptically. "I expect them to be returned."

He grinned and took them from her hands. "Of course, Vanity."

"Oh, and Evan?" she called out. He turned to her and noticed her biting her lip and looking down at the ground before her. "Be careful." she said at last, looking up into his shimmering black eyes with her own dull blue.

His gin became softer and he nodded solemnly. "Of course, Vanity."

-.-.-.-.-.-

 **7 o'clock:**

Evan looked around and found himself in the same exact place he was previously: the hallway that lead right to his goal. He disarmed the tracking charm that he unknowingly overlooked and touched the doorknob. It turned and opened to reveal a bedroom with a side closet that could be used as an excellent hiding spot. The doorknob was nothing like what it would be in a few short hours. Actually, the short might end up quite long if he didn't spend his time to his preference.

Shouting erupted from down the hall and he turned to the sound, amused.

"AAAHHH!"

"Stop your incessant screaming."

The exchange they had went uninterrupted as Evan waited in the room. He wasn't sure just how far back he would have to go, but he assumed it had to be enough that the room was unoccupied, and therefore, not charmed by that bloody protection _thing_. Now that he was there, he may as well wait.

"We can't just run away from our problems, Barty!"

Evan held back a snicker. They didn't know just how accurate that statement was. If he were his problem, then Crouch would be walking into a trap laid out precisely for him (not the Longbottoms. No, they were just extras).

The commotion died back down and he went back to staring at the room he was in. It was bland and elegant at the same time. There was a crib in a corner with a little star hanging above it with hippogriffs, unicorns, dragons, and phoenixes dancing in a circle. He almost forgot that they were expecting a child in a matter of weeks, maybe even days.

Footsteps alarmed him of the incoming enemies and he slid under the bed without a second thought (forget about the closet, shall we). He activated the disillusionment charm in his coat and waited for Barty to leave (because the entire plan revolved around backstabbing and hurt, just like in the stories) and it was the little brat that he was targeting.

He had long since accepted the fact that the Longbottoms were traitor bloods, he learned that by the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts. What he couldn't figure out was why someone like Bartemius Crouch Jr- a former slytherin, dark arts practitioner, and logical pureblood with so much in common with the Dark Lord- would actively act against them. It wasn't right, it was an anomaly. And what does Evan do with anomalies? Befriend them, mostly- but Barty's an exception!

He recalled his quidditch times and remembered how gloomy the kid was. He would have made the perfect Death Eater if it wasn't for his loyalty to his friends. That damn loyalty! Evan was surprised he didn't get sorted into Hufflepuff! (Or Ravenclaw with his book nerdiness and perfect OWLs.) That loyalty was wasted on helping the side of _muggles_ when he rarely made contact with one. It was foolishly wasted on delaying the Great Cause!

"Your room is so defenseless." Barty noted. "How can you sleep knowing that you're so vulnerable?"

"Relax, Bart. There are charms everywhere, no one's coming in."

He wasn't convinced. " _Aegis quia Praesidium._ " A warm orange light came from his wand and covered the walls and entrances with a soft glow. Once the ends of the barrier of light met, it faded into the surroundings, as if it were making it clear that it was still present.

"New spell?" Frank asked, reaching out to the wall. It shone faintly where he touched it and left some residue light clinging to his fingers. It was gone in the blink of an eye and he tried to bring it back to no avail.

"Anti-apparition included. It should protect you long enough until sunrise. The door shouldn't budge no matter how many times it's hit with a spell."

"Can we go out if the door is closed?" Frank asked.

Barty was about to answer, but stopped to think. "I don't know. It works both ways."

"What about Rosier? (Evan perked up.) He may be onto you." (Evan rolled his eyes with a noiseless scoff to accompany it.)

Barty exhaled and rubbed his eyes. "If he isn't, then he's an idiot. I practically gave myself away by using all those tracking charms... that is if he hadn't known already."

"What if he tells you-know-who?" Alice asked, holding his shoulders an arm's length away from her. "You'll-"

"He probably already did." Barty said, swiping her hands away from him. "But if there's one thing I know about him, it's that he acts independently. He finds this war jocular and… what's the word?"

"You ran out of fancy words?" Alice asked in astonishment. She covered her mouth with a hand and turned to Frank in faux incredulity. "I never thought that was possible."

"The point is that if he does, he'll ask he-who-must-not-be-named to not interfere or simply give minimal information."

"And how do you know that?" she pried.

"I-" Barty's expression changed and he stared at a dot in space. "What is he doing?"

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, suddenly alert. He pushed himself off the wall and reached Barty. He was waved away and he visually relaxed.

"He's at the Ministry. But what does he want from there?"

Evan's eyebrow raised in an impressed angle. That must have been the time when he stole the time turner- sorry, borrowed without intending to return it. He didn't realize that the spell was connected directly to the caster in such a way. He thought there was at least a piece of paper or a marking on his skin that showed him his whereabouts.

"Us, probably." Frank answered, leaning back against the wall. "He probably still thinks we're there."

" _Of course you would think that, Frank."_ Evan mused.

"I don't think so. He's not there anymore. It's like he was looking for something…"

" _Ooh. Smart little birdy."_

"Like I said, probably us."

"Do you really think so?"

Frank's mouth pressed shut and he inclined his head. "Now that you mention it, not really, but I can hope."

Alice looked at the clock, which had turned to nearly eight. The sun had just about set and the boys were in no hurry whatsoever. "I'll assume neither of you will be going back to work."

"What time is it?" asked Barty.

"Five minutes 'til eight. Why?"

It was like a train ran into him as he jumped and ran out the door, promptly shutting it behind him as he dashed to the chimney for easy floo travel. "I still have work to finish!"

Alice stared at the closed door in complete and utter shock. "Did he just-" She ran over to it and tried her best to make it budge.

"-lock us inside?"

Alice groaned and hit the wood. It reacted harshly and provided a visible scarlet shield around the area of impact that stung her knuckles. "Ow! He could have at least kept the door open! It won't open until morning because _someone_ thought it would be a good idea to put us in lockdown!"

Frank rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You're not talking about me, right?"

"Does it look like I am?"

"Er…"

"No, I'm talking about bloody Merlin, you git!"

"Mood swing?"

"Bugger off."

Frank chuckled and walked over to the bed to sit down.

Evan woke from his stupor and grinned madly. The comradery they shared was almost innocent and absolutely unbreakable. It was begging to be proven otherwise.

Now was his chance to initiate his plan. He pointed his index finger at them, since he left his wand in the hallway when he jumped back in time, and silently incanted " _Obliviate._ " on each individually. After seeing the spell take effect, he proceeded with a various selection of false memory charms. Everything was coordinated with flexibilities, in case something like Crouch's initial intervention of his protection spell happened. He loved it when a plan came together.

Evan rolled out from underneath the bed and scared Alice to death (not really, although he wouldn't mind if it did). "Hey, why don't we wait it out until Barty comes?"

"Evan!" Alice fumed. "Didn't you just- How did you get in?"

He held up his time turner and smiled cheekily. "I stole it from Crouch and came back before I closed the door. It was around midnight-ish."

"He had a time turner?" Frank asked him, tensing up. "That's why he went to the Ministry…"

"Correctamundo."

Alice slapped Evan across the cheek and raged on like an untempered storm. "That's for locking us in!"

He rubbed his red cheeks with a grin that never left his face. "Sorry, love. I won't do it again."

Frank frowned and flopped on the bed. "Yeah, Ev. We're stuck in here thanks to you."

"Sorry, mate." Evan said, his grin could not stretch any further. "I won't do it again."

-.-.-.-.-.-

The time passed as slow as ever. Every hour or two, Evan would glance at the clock and find that only five or ten minutes had passed. He played with that spell Crouch made and was foolish enough to say out loud.

" _Aegis quia Praesidium._ "

It was foreign and terribly inadequate, much unlike the one casted around the room. The words themselves were an incomplete fragment to the bigger picture. It was one key to a lock of four.

Evan skimmed the surface of Alice's and Frank's wands. They would not work as well as his own, but they would have to do. Having a wand is always better than his wandless magic.

The Longbottoms decided to stay up for another three hours before retiring to bed, which suited Evan just fine. When they were awake, he gathered as much intel as he possibly could about his situation and the part he'd have to play (apparently, Crouch's codename was Theta in the field and he was only loosely connected to the Order of the Phoenix). When they were asleep, he collected his thoughts and prepared himself for the fun game waiting ahead. It was like roleplaying, except on a much greater scale.

Pretending to be someone he was not was something he found natural and absolutely enjoyable. Toying with their lives or blending into a different environment was incredibly entertaining. The outcome at the end when the reveal is known is equally amazing! The reactions are priceless!

However, there was one thing he would have to look out for. If he screwed up his facade, then the Longbottoms would catch on. The memory charms could only work for so long and could easily be reverted. Thankfully, he wouldn't need to pull this up for too long and the memories he hid somewhere deep within their brains wouldn't come up until much later (if they even bothered to sort it out in the first place).

" _Aegis quia Praesidium._ "

He couldn't figure that spell out. He needed to know what exactly it did. Only then would he be able to conjure up something to counter it, like some sort of reversal charm (almost all spells and potions have a reverse form of magic to counter its effects, some are just harder to find than others).

He looked at the clock dreadfully and wondered how few minutes had passed since he last checked. To his pleasant surprise, a good half hour had flown away and he was closing in around the time he initially arrived. Ten more minutes. Ten bloody minutes.

The ticking of the clock accompanied him in weary silence. It wasn't the same as before. Before, it was a pleasing, but now, it was pure annoying. Who wants to hear the ticking of a clock in the dead of night when it was dark and silent and you'd much rather be done with waiting altogether? No one, that's who!

" _Aegis quia Praesidium._ "

The more he repeated it, the more he found it frustrating. "Shield for protection" yeah, why not? Obviously it does more than protect.

His well-rested self was becoming not-so-well-rested the longer he waited, even if all he had left was ten minutes. The naps and caffeine he had earlier to prepare for this was wearing out and the heightened tension made it worse.

"Ages queue Presidium."

Great, now he was saying the bloody spell wrong.

A shuffle outside caught his attention and he jumped off the chair he was resting in. He pressed his ear against the door and listened for any movement that might signal his arrival.

" _Portaberto._ "

He was! Oh, this was wonderful! This meant Crouch was here and would be waiting on the other side of the door.

"Hey, Frank! Alice!" he half whispered, half shouted at them. " _Rennervate._ "

Frank jolted up and stared at him with wide eyes. Alice was more calm about it and stayed underneath the blanket. "Ev, what happened?"

"He's here." he said excitedly, gesturing to the door. "I heard him."

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

All of them jumped back when they heard the deadly spell on the other side. So the little birdy _did_ try to kill Evan. Aw, that was sweet. This only cemented the trust the Longbottoms had in him.

"He tried to kill you?" Alice asked in a hushed voice, pulling the blanket tighter around her.

"Obviously, love. We're on opposite sides and he'll stop at nothing to have his goals achieved." Evan took her wand from nightstand and pointed the tip at the door. "I'll be borrowing this."

The three waited in anticipation for Crouch to burst through the room, which never happened.

"Didn't you say that the door won't break no matter how many spells are shot at it?"

Evan lowered his wand and grimaced. "Right. Meaning we'll have to wait for morning."

Waiting wasn't as much a problem as having the little birdy outside. Soon, knowing him, he would realize just how far back Evan went and his plans could be for naught. If he called backup from the Order…

No. Crouch never called in help unless it were the Longbottoms. Judging by his persona, he would try to defeat Evan all by himself if he had to. If he truly wanted a life away from this war, he'd refuse to have anyone know besides whoever was necessary.

Evan snickered and covered his mouth so that Crouch wouldn't hear him from the other side. The little birdy had one fatal flaw. He trusted no one.


	8. Azkaban

**Chapter 7: Azkaban**

* * *

The violet light haunted him in both his dreams and in his wake indiscriminately. He could not pinpoint what it was, but whatever it was, it ruined everything. Regardless of the time and the effort spent on keeping himself hidden and his friends in relative safety, nothing he did was ever enough. It was never enough.

"Junior."

A voice called out from beyond the visions; it had a mother's care and he longed to bury his mind in it. It was warm, far warmer than the cold cell.

The visions receded and the dim room replaced that damned night. Before him stood his mother, looking down at him with a hand close to her mouth. Behind her was his father, who stared at him with a mixture of disappointment and contempt.

As soon as the door to his cell was opened, the woman rushed in and held the prisoner in a much needed embrace, one that could not be determined who needed it more.

"Mother…" Barty croaked.

"Listen, Junior. We are going to get you out, you hear me?" she declared in a whisper, taking out two flasks. She plucked a strand of her hair and lowered into one of the flasks, then proceeded to close it and swirl the liquid before handing it to Barty. She reached out for one of his hairs before he recoiled and grabbed her hand.

"What are you—"

"I can't let you do this, mother."

She blinked and shook her head. "I must. It is a mother's duty to care for her child. I don't have long to live anyway."

"But," Barty stopped, biting his lip. "If you're dying, then spend the rest of your time well."

"Junior-"

"He is right. You should not trade your life for a criminal's," the man said, speaking up at last. "Even if you do take his place, what do you think he will do? Hide for the rest of his life? Go back to his _lord_? Waste your sacrifice?"

Barty winced at his words and lowered his head, ire burning quietly.

"But I am his mother. I cannot let my child be imprisoned like this!"

The man could not disagree more, however, he did not have the heart to retort, so he let his wife hold onto her unattainable dreams. The child had gone too far, making him hers no longer.

They sat in silence until the man decided it was time to go. They were granted access due to his position in the Ministry as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but that did not give them unlimited time with their dastardly son. "Come, our time is up."

"Either Junior leaves this place or we stay." the woman argued stubbornly, holding the flasks as if her life depended on it.

"Eleanor. It's time to leave."

She scoffed in response and refused to get up, opting instead to stare into the eyes of her son. "Junior, do this for me, please. I can't die peacefully unless I die knowing that I did everything I could for my family. For you. I've already been absent for the majority of it and I refuse to be absent when you need me the most."

She was wrong in that regard. The time when he needed her most had passed years ago. Still, it was nice to know someone cared for him, even if he was marked as a criminal.

"There's… there's something else you can do, if you want to help me." Barty said with his head lowered and voice barely audible.

"I'll do anything."

"Eleanor, it's time to go." The man was growing impatient, as evident by his raised voice and the tapping of his feet.

"That's all?" the woman asked her son once he finished listing the few items he required. She pursed her lips and glanced back at her husband, who was standing halfway out the door. She then turned back and gripped her son's hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to make it instead? Is that all the ingredients?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

The steady footfalls down the hall alerted the three to an incoming guard long before he arrived. "Sir, and ma'am, I have come to tell you that you're time is up. Please follow me."

"Elea—"

"I'm coming," the woman replied, her eyes trained on Junior with sorrow. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

He nodded in response as the door to his cell closed, leaving him alone again. It was strangely nice having the time to think. That time was quickly over when the dementor returned, plunging him into horrible nightmares once more.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Months had passed since the news of his mother's death reached him. She had stopped by once before her departure, as promised.

Barty knew that it was coming. He knew that Death was at his mother's doorsteps. He just didn't know how to accept it once the deed was done.

The ingredients he asked for did give him the option of leaving, not that he intended to in the first place. His mind was weak enough as is and he had no chance of escape once he was outside the walls of his prison. He was well known enough that a mere glance could send him right back into Azkaban, if not with more bars and chains.

All he could do was wait. How long, he didn't know. His entire life?

What day was it? Was it still 1980? Probably not.

The door down the hall was opened. The time was too early for the guard to be bringing food, and from the curses and the sound of dragging chains, Barty could only assume it was another prisoner. He hadn't met any since his stay, since he was brought to a "special" cell designed for people who were clever enough to hide their involvement with he-who-must-not-be-named and possessed high skill in spellcasting or dueling. They were the most dangerous criminals in Azkaban. Barty chuckled, thinking that the description would have fit Evan Rosier all too well.

"Hey, brat. You've got a cellmate. Play nice."

The prisoner was shoved into the cell while the guard locked the door, releasing a string of insults as he departed. The dementor wasn't let in until a little while later.

Barty watched as his cellmate shivered, most likely reliving horrid memories, which tended to build up in a war.

He'd grown used to reliving the memories to perceive his surroundings past that cold darkness. Sleeping helps by a small margin, and although the memories often claw their way into dreams, there were instances of dreamless nights. If he was lucky enough, he'd get a pleasant one, or as pleasant as they could be with a dementor just around the corner at all times.

That was why he'd sought to meditate and prepare his mind as much as he could before arriving, creating mental blocks that allowed him to bear Azkaban better than most.

This may not have been such a great idea, conversing with a Death Eater and all, but he didn't exactly have conversations with the dementors or the passing guards, and he was desperate for something to do. So unlike him in his school days. Plus, given that this man was actually suffering from his memories rather than denying it with a maniacal grin, Barty thought that his cellmate was like him. Hopefully, he wouldn't break after the first week.

And taking it from Regulus' book- "no one wants to be lonely"- he decided to reach out.

"Hey," he called out to the man, who had his head buried in his arms as if they could protect him or ease his torture. It only occurred to Barty that he hadn't spoken in a long time, resulting in his softer than usual tone that forgot how much volume was necessary to be heard. "Hey. Why are you here? What's your name?"

The man's head snapped up so suddenly, Barty was afraid he'd gotten whiplash.

"Should I start first? Sorry, I'm not that great with starting conversations. I'm Bartemius Crouch… Junior."

The man's eyes blinked a few times, each time shifting from one emotion to the next. In the end, he settled with anger and slowly stood up.

"Are you okay?"

His balance was off and his gaze was unfocused. When he staggered toward him, Barty was confused, if not a little intrigued. The hands reached out suddenly, connecting with Barty's cheek before he could react.

"Why did you kill them?! I thought they were your friends!" the man shouted, slamming the blonde against the floor followed by the act of cutting off his air supply. "Did they mean nothing to you?!"

Barty never imagined this type of reaction from his new cellmate. He just wanted to ask what he'd supposedly done to get placed there. Who was he anyway?

In an act of desperation, Barty kicked the man off of him and took in large gulps of air, sputtering and coughing as he tried to ease the irritation on his throat. He managed to roll out of the way when the man attacked again, taking in his appearance and face for the first time.

" _You've got to be kidding me,"_ was the only thought in Barty's mind. "Sirius Black?" was what he said in between avoiding the assaulting arms and the side of the cell closest to the dementor.

Somehow, someway, the dementor's influence seeped into Black's mind and halted the attack, giving Barty time to breath. It must have moved closer to see what the commotion was about… not that it could see in the first place. The memories weren't as painful as they were before, but that was taking into consideration that Barty stayed in the corner farthest from the creature and had some sort of protection system set up in his mind, however feeble it was.

Deciding that speaking wasn't a good idea at the moment, Barty lowered himself to the ground with heavy breaths.

Never had he been so thankful to be in the presence of a dementor.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The next time the two spoke to each other ended far better than the first. Black calmed enough and decided not to cause trouble, lest he be assigned to a worse cell with worse people and more of those terrifying wraiths. He still held his grudges though, which was unsurprising. What _was_ surprising was how he kept his head on his shoulders instead of giving in, like most others from what he gathered.

Barty waited until a couple of weeks had passed for Black to come to terms with his current condition to even respond to the threats the former Gryffindor tossed at him.

"I didn't want to kill them," he bit back after Black's umpteenth accusation. "I'm not a bad guy."

"Says every bad guy," Black growled.

"Right. And why are you here?"

Barty could see him shudder before his eyes turned murderous. "It's none of your business, traitor."

He heaved a sigh. "Is that so."

They were getting better, slowly but surely, letting them know instinctively that they weren't alone in their struggles, for better or for worse.

Another month or two, maybe twelve, passed before Black said something that didn't contain the words "traitor", "die", "bloody Slytherin", or other such positive words. The day had come when he decided to share what he was convicted of.

"I'm assuming you didn't do it," Barty concluded as soon as the words left Black's mouth. "You didn't kill the Potters. You had no hand in it."

Sirius' solemn expression fell and was replaced by one angered. "It was Pettigrew. _He_ betrayed them, not me. I wanted to hunt down the bastard-"

"And he framed you instead. Is he still alive?"

Black scowled and eyed the bars. "I'm sure of it."

"Does the public think he's dead?" Barty asked. When Sirius nodded, he leaned forward slightly. "And I have to know: Do you want revenge?" He could tell from the way the man tensed and relaxed suddenly that he did. He yearned for it. "I thought so."

Black raised his head with an eyebrow raised. The dots connected in his nigh-scrambled-but-still-functioning mind, prompting him to ask "You too? From who?"

"A man named Evan Rosier."

The two prisoners grew to understand each other. They learned to cope and coincide. Black was by no means a replacement for the Longbottoms and Crouch was no Potter, but they came close. As the days became years, with the passage of time evident by their long locks and ticks on the walls, they built mental shields (which were Barty's proposal and instruction) to protect their minds from the dementors and worked on accumulating some form of physical strength (as per Sirius' suggestions).

"Are you planning on leaving?" Sirius asked in the middle of his meditation. It was an untouched subject for the first few years they'd shared the cell.

"Eventually. I'm not sure. I don't want to waste away in a cell for the rest of my life, but I'm not confident that leaving is the most preferable course of action."

"Can you even escape?"

"I'm not worried about leaving Azkaban," Barty stated dismissively. "I'm more concerned on staying out."

"How are you planning to get out?"

"It all depends if there happens to be a method of avoiding the ensuing penalty. You do know that I am implying the Dementor's Kiss. I'd rather not turn into an empty shell. It would be troublesome."

Black nodded and grinned. "I might know of a method."

-.-.-.-.-.-

The mental shields were far stronger than was required to block off the dementor completely. This only applied to a single dementor, maybe a few, but neither wanted to test their luck by attracting more.

"How long has it been?"

"Since what?"

Barty lifted his cup, swirling it a little while running a hand through his long hair. It was messy. He decided that it would be the first to go once they made it outside. "Since you arrived. I'm not counting the days, but it's been absurdly long, hasn't it? At least, assuming that you've kept count of all the marks on the walls and haven't been adding anything."

"Ten years, give or take. Harry should be eleven soon."

"Only ten..." Barty's voice trailed off as he sat up on his bed.

"How's Juliet?" Sirius asked, nodding to Barty's version of the Draught of Living Death.

Juliet was slightly easier than its more well known counterpart and used common ingredients (with the exception of wormwood), but he hadn't yet tested his theory for the potion. If it followed what he intended, it would be a milder version without as many risks and a shorter duration ( _and_ boiling the ingredients was unnecessary, with the ingredients being dried instead of fresh for longevity).

"It should be ready soon. It's enough for one person and should last two days, maybe more. I'm trusting you to follow and watch over me until it wears off. I don't want to have my 'corpse' burned to ashes or wake up underground."

Sirius briefly shape-shifted into a dog. "You can count on me."

"Oh, and don't forget to clean the cup. I don't want anyone to infer what its contents were."

"Yeah, yeah. I got it."

"Stay out of sight and don't blow your cover."

"I know."

They waited for an hour for the dark purple potion to appear clear. It was only after Barty took a sample and dropped it on the breakfast he wasn't planning to eat that he deemed it complete, seeing as how the meager meal didn't melt or show any signs of marring. It wasn't deadly or acidic, which was a good sign. He took the exposed part of the food and threw it into the hole of excretion.

"Ready?"

"Yes," Barty replied, raising the cup to his lips. "I hope you're an adequate actor. I'll see you on the other side."

"Until then."

He downed the liquid and immediately felt the effects diffusing throughout his body. His heart rate slowed to a halt and his pulse became nonexistent. His vision went dark and he dropped the cup, which landed softly on the floor beside his bed.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Sirius waited a few seconds for the potion to activate fully. He checked for Bartemius's breathing and pulse, both coming up negative. In fact, the body was colder than it should have been, as if it hadn't been functioning for some time. It was so thoroughly convincing, he was starting to worry that the potion worked far too well for it to be nonlethal.

He dried the cup with his shirt and took in a deep breath. The guard would be coming in a few hours with lunch and dinner was when the plan would officially begin. By then, Sirius would be prepared to make the act as believable as possible, with most of it down thanks to Juliet (he knew it was a Muggle reference, but even the most haughty pureblood heard of the play). With luck, he wouldn't have to say that many words. This plan was durable enough that it wouldn't be soiled through bad acting anyway.

Night time came quick. As soon as he heard the dragging footsteps and felt the cold recede slowly, although not completely, he allowed his mental shields to fall. The two had been particularly careful with hiding their now impressive defenses in case it warranted a worse cell. At once, memories flooded his head and he fought hard to keep them all relatively at bay. He had forgotten how much he'd grown to rely on those defenses.

Dinner was shoved through the little opening as usual with the deliverer just about ready to leave when he stopped and raised an eyebrow at the untouched breakfast and lunch trays (he didn't seem to notice the few kernels missing in the former). He looked up at the younger prisoner lying still in bed and his frown deepened.

"What happened?"

Sirius fought the urge to shoot a sarcastic remark and couldn't stop himself from delivering a blunt response. "He bit the dust. Lucky him." Alright, he'll admit it. His acting was terrible. "Happened this morning."

The guard scrunched his nose and proceeded to leave, most likely to call for backup since he had a far brisker pace than when he came in. Just as he predicted (with the help of Bartemius previously mentioning that this may happen), the guard returned with two medics and a stretcher. Spells were impossible in Azkaban, with all the wards and the like scattered across every inch of the place.

Sirius was told to come close to the bars and extend his hands to be cuffed. Precautions first, after all. The medics scurried over to Bartemius and ran diagnostic tests, assuring the guard that the prisoner was, indeed, dead.

"He's gone, but I can't find what caused it. It can't be starvation or dehydration and he doesn't have any wounds," one of the medics noted, helping her coworker in transferring the body onto the stretcher. "It must have been a disease. We can't afford to let him stay here much longer for fear of an epidemic."

" _She's considerate,"_ Sirius mused blissfully. _"But wrong."_

"We need to clean out this cell as soon as possible."

The guard frowned and rubbed the back of his head. "Does it matter?"

The woman sighed and her partner merely shrugged in resignation. "It would be best."

"Less to worry about, though, right? It should be fine."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and felt his lips pull into a frown. Damn. Was he really worth so little?

"Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps," the other medic muttered, anxiously shifting his gaze between Sirius and the patient dementor.

The guard nodded and led the medics out, leaving Sirius still chained to the bars screaming, "Oi! Are you just going to leave me here?!"

The doors closed and the footsteps retreated. Sirius quickly reconfigured his mental shields and morphed into a large, black dog. Quietly, he slipped his paws out of the cuffs and slid past the bars now wide enough for him to pass through. After a swift glance at the dementor, who didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, he left the cell completely and entered the adjacent room.

He was careful enough to open and close the doors silently, checking to make sure no one would spot him before entering. In only a few minutes, he caught up with his "dead" accomplice and waited for him to be "disposed of."

Thankfully, this meant burying the body in a hole, not burning it up. This saved Sirius from interfering. "It's too late. We can get that done in the morning," the warden advised. "Put him in the morgue for now."

"Yessir."

Sirius stayed hidden in the shadows, taking advantage of his black fur. Bartemius had made clear that they shouldn't leave the grounds if Sirius couldn't carry them both across the sea, or find something to carry them. If anything failed, Sirius was to return to the cell and wait a day for the potion to wear off. By then, however, Bartemius would be in the ground, suffocating.

Shaking his head to dispose of the lingering thoughts, he followed the two medics as they stored his cellmate in the pungent room (considering the enhanced sense of smell of his canine form).

"What disease do you think killed him?" the man asked his partner as he conducted a diagnostic spell, which brought up nothing useful. "Should we perform autopsy just in case?"

The lady prodded Bartemius' torso and frowned. "We should, but we'll need the right equipments. I can ask the warden tomorrow and request for the supplies. It's not everyday someone dies in here. The most recent was two years ago and she clearly starved herself."

Sirius winced at the mention of autopsy. Bartemius will positively _slaughter_ him if he was cut open and examined. A tiny voice argued that the former Slytherin would not be able to do such a thing in the first place, given that he'd be dead.

"I'm going home. I'll see you in the morning." And with that, the two medics bid each other goodnight and went their separate ways.

With the night being the time when the dementors had free reign over all of Azkaban (not a single human, sans the prisoners, remained), Sirius stayed in his furry form and pulled Bartemius out of the morgue, careful with tugging only his clothes and not skin (thankfully, the medics decided to leave everything for the next day, meaning the clothes were kept on).

Turns out, his animal counterpart was better equipped to deal with the dementors. With the mental shields in place, he could not feel their presence at all.

Sirius dragged the younger convict out of Azkaban and stared at the expanse of water waiting for them. Deciding that it was safe enough to do so, he left Bartemius' body unattended by the shore to search for a boat or something that could float and was big enough for the two to sail to the mainland. Without magic (and not wanting to drown), he didn't have any other choice.

Upon returning with nothing, he cursed and considered swimming by himself. He scratched that out when the thought of Bartemius either hounding him down or selling him out occurred to him. It would be dangerous to leave him there and he instantly regretted thinking about it. They were friends, dammit. They knew what the other struggled with.

Steeling his resolve, Sirius went back into the prison, searching for anything that could even remotely help him in his predicament. _"Why does Juliet have to last so long?"_

Eventually, he took some rope and unhinged a wooden door, carrying it (with much difficulty in his dog form) out, all the while sneering at every blind dementor he came across. He found Bartemius' body where he left him and proceeded to drag the blonde onto the door, tying him to the wood so that he didn't drift off, and pushed off to sea. The currents were wild and volatile, as if they were purposely trying to strand them, and the waves constantly threatened to drown them. Oh what fun.

Sirius shook off the water from his fur, only to be drenched again. If he didn't have the foresight to bring the rope, Bartemius would have fallen off ten times over. The door capsized twice, forcing him to work against the waves to bring his companion back to the surface. Both times proved to be a hassle and he managed to save him the first attempt. The second time ended with Sirius trying for a solid ten minutes before giving up and letting the waves push it back by themselves.

He only hoped that since Bartemius wasn't breathing in the first place, submerging him wouldn't hurt.

It was a nightmare to get to shore, and when he did, he wasn't even near the landmass he was aiming for. Night turned to day and Sirius was stuck in Denmark. Again, he wondered _"why does Juliet have to last so BLOODY LONG?!"_

* * *

 **A/N: I figured that Azkaban wasn't entirely void of human staff, so this plan was made possible. As you can see, their escape was a bit ahead of canon, since the two were able to cooperate and motivate each other. Also, I realized the two wouldn't be able to talk or plan unless they had some sort of defense against the dementors. I couldn't really incorporate Sirius's focus on his innocence to avoid insanity, so I had to come up with some alternative.**

 **I feel like Azkaban was a letdown, but I really wanted to get them out quickly, meaning the exclusion of unnecessary details and anecdotes. Because of that, however, the friendship of Sirius and Barty seems forced and that time skip was too convenient… I'm sorry.**


	9. From Rabbit to Owl

**Chapter 8: From Rabbit to Owl**

* * *

 **A/N: I can't think of a way to lengthen it so I'll leave this deficient chapter as it is. I apologize for my lack of dedication to this story and for this incredibly short excuse for a chapter. I will try to continue updating, but I doubt it will be good (especially since I'm making it up as I go with vague checkpoints guiding the way, updating first drafts that are relatively unedited, and losing interest in writing out the story). Anyway, thank you for taking your time to read this.**

* * *

It was not pretty when Barty woke up. As soon as his breathing returned and his eyes opened, he vomited the contents of his stomach out. He tasted salt in his mouth and didn't take long to figure out the general picture.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked, morphing into his human form to provide some form of comfort. "After effects of the potion?"

Barty shook his head, steadied his breathing and waited for the nausea to fade. "Seawater. How long was I unconscious?"

"Less than two days."

"Any word from Azkaban?"

"Not that I know of."

"Good."

Barty only then looked around and took in his surroundings. They were in a cave of some kind close to the sea, as evident from the smell of saltwater and the sound of crashing waves. Sirius offered him a raw seagull skewered with a wooden stick. The blond twitched at the sight.

"Raw meat isn't good for you. Roasting it over a fire would be better."

Sirius blinked at the comment and laughed sheepishly. "See, I don't know how to make a fire? I mean, I could do it if I had a wand, but not, you know, the muggle way."

Barty nodded slowly with a long, dreadful sigh. "We need dry wood. The door should suffice."

After a demonstrative show of building a fire, with its fair share of failed attempts, the bird was roasted and eaten.

"Do you remember what the preparations are for an animagus?"

"Yeah. You need a lot of space to draw a big rune thing—"

"You mean an array?"

"Yeah, that. You also need a sample of whatever animal type—"

"Class."

"—you'll turn into, like fur for a mammal or scales for a reptile. The specific animal—"

"Species."

"—is usually your patronus, like a 99.99999% chance. It's broader for mammals since there are so many different kinds—"

"Orders."

"Can you stop that?"

Barty looked down at the bones of the seagull and his eyebrows furrowed. "Let's start."

"Wait, right now?"

"Yes."

Sirius wasn't convinced. "You just woke up and this process takes up a lot of energy. I was out for five hours. We just got out of Azkaban less than two days ago."

"The sooner we begin, the sooner we can search for Pettigrew," he replied effortlessly.

The black-haired man slowly nodded in agreement. "Alright. Let's begin."

It took longer than either expected to draw the array on the sand— thanks to fleeting memories only countered by mediocre legilimency and loose ground shifting with every step— but it was finished and ready for use nevertheless. Placing the seagull bone in the center, and avoiding stepping on the precise lines making out the array, Sirius jumped back a few paces.

"It activates with your blood. Drop some in that circle over there and it'll start to glow," he said as he shifted back into his animagus form, displaying sharp teeth.

Barty let him bite his finger until it drew blood and proceeded to do as he was told. True to the former Gryffindor's words, the array glowed brightly in response to the red liquid, which spread along the lines of the many runes, consuming the blond in light.

The array— now burning red— swirled around Barty, shrinking until it met with flesh and disappeared from sight. All trace of the spell was gone, even the bone of the seagull had been reduced to nothing. Barty, having lost consciousness as soon as his blood made contact with the ground, was on the floor, his breathing shallow.

Sirius was not as concerned about the fact that his friend was again out of commission so much as he was annoyed by the fact that he had to wait. With a dog's equivalent to a sigh of exasperation, he plopped on the floor and waited. With luck, Bartemius would wake in a few hours, after recovering whatever magical energy the process required.

" _I forgot to tell him where we are…"_ He growled at the thought. _"We'll need to cross the sea… again."_

-.-.-.-.-.-

Nausea overtook him again the moment he woke up. Thankfully, it was more of a mental-magical type of discomfort than a physical-body type, meaning he didn't throw up.

"You're awake!"

"How long-"

"A whooping twelve hours!"

Barty groaned. "Alright. How do you activate it?"

"You just… do. I don't know," Sirius shrugged and briefly morphed into a dog and back again. "It's easy. Just think about it and boom. Without the explosion."

"Very descriptive," Barty snarked before regaining his composure. "Do I have to think of a certain species for the first time?"

Again, Sirius shrugged. "I took the form of my patronus and you probably will too, whatever it is at the moment, at least. If it was a dog, and you used a bird's bone, it'll change, probably. I don't know."

Barty hadn't used a patronus since his Hogwarts days, when he was learning how to cast it. Back then, it had been a rabbit, but that was well above a decade ago and his patronus was sure to have changed. Thinking forcefully to get his body to shift into whatever form he would take, an image of a certain bird popped into his mind. Brown feathers, stubbed horn-like features, and amber eyes.

His animagus form was the splitting image of his former owl and companion, Aldwyn, if only slightly larger in size.

He opened his mouth (beak) to say something, but only hoots and clicks came out. Sirius watched with a wide grin on his face as his partner tried and failed to turn back.

"You won't become human if you think like that. It's not the same as becoming an animal. You have to imagine the spell stopping or think of a word to cancel it."

No sooner had he explained it did the great-horned owl morph back into the blonde. "That was unsettling. I didn't realize how annoying feathers and talons could be."

"You'll get used to it."

"Hng. By the way, where are we?"

Sirius sucked in a deep breath and clapped his hands together close to his mouth. "Well… we may or may not be on continental Europe right now."

Barty facepalmed and let out an agonizingly slow sigh. "That shouldn't matter."

The former Gryffindor blinked at the comment and lowered his hands. "You have a plan to get back to Britain?"

Barty shrugged and walked over to the mouth of the cave. "We're both animagi now. It shouldn't be all that difficult to get across unnoticed. If all else fails, we can try wandless apparition."

Sirius scoffed and joined him. "Not everyone can perform wandless magic, you know. When are we leaving?"

"Why not now?"

"I figured you were going to say that. Any idea where to start looking?"

"Knowing Pettigrew, he'd want to stay close to society. Am I wrong?"

Sirius tilted his head to the side. "Sounds about right."

"Then I'd say he's still somewhere in Wizarding Britain. If no one knows that he is an animagus, he could be hiding in plain sight, perhaps as a pet for commodious living," Barty deduced.

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"No one wants to go to a completely new place with a different language and/or culture."

"No, I meant being a pet?"

The blond glanced at him for a moment, then back at the sea. "I'm not. It was only an inference." His body morphed into an owl's and he tested his wings, flying along the walls of the cave before landing. He opened his beak, then closed it upon realizing he couldn't speak coherently in that form. "Let's go. Hand me the remnants of the boat."

In their animal counterparts, the two brought the wooden pieces to the shore where the younger of the two transfigured it wandlessly into a canoe (as a human, of course). Once they boarded, the insides of the canoe expanded to accommodate their needs, if only by an arm's length. Barty remained above the waters to steer the boat with a transfigured stick shaped like an oar.

"Denmark, huh? That's pretty far from England," Barty noted when he ascertained their location.

Sirius growled at him and briefly turned human. "It's not like I can control the currents to bring us to England, you know."

When the winds picked up and the moon replaced the sun, Barty changed back into his human form to get a stronger hold on the oar. Somewhere in the middle, he changed the colors of their clothes so that they wouldn't be immediately recognized as escape prisoners and cut his hair to a more manageable length (completely ridding himself of the itchy beard) with wandless magic. He had offered to cut Sirius', but a near beheading as the result of a sudden wave crashing into the side of the boat persuaded the former Gryffindor to wait until they were back on dry land, or at least in stable waters. He even ran his fingers across his neck to make certain that the spell hadn't drawn blood a few hours after the incident.

"Back in Hogwarts, we made up nicknames for our animagus forms. James was Prongs, Peter was Wormtail, and I was Padfoot," Sirius announced randomly. "And Remus was Moony, but he wasn't an animagus."

Barty raised an eyebrow at his comment. "Okay, and?"

"I was wondering what you would be if you were a Marauder," he answered with a shrug. "Beaky? Birdy? Ba—"

"Theta."

Sirius chuckled. "Doesn't start with a B. Why 'Theta'?"

"It was an old alias I used. It never really worked since Frank kept forgetting to use it."

The black-haired man smiled at the mention of his old friend. "Theta it is then. Want to switch spots?"

"It's fine."

"Are you sure? 'Cus your arms are shaking and your eyes have bags."

"It's fine," the blond repeated stubbornly. "I think I've rested enough for the past three days. You should sleep. We'll be on land by the time you wake."

Sirius sighed in resignation and laid down on his back. He traced a few constellations and made some up as he did. "What will you do when we find Pettigrew?"

"Commence my search for Rosier— You should be asleep and those aren't even real constellations."

"You noticed?"

"Of course I noticed."

"Of course you did."

"Go. to. sleep." Barty scowled, kicking his head with each word.

"Alright, alright! I'm sleeping!"

The rest of the time was spent in silence; Sirius remained awake while Barty knew he was still conscious. Similar thoughts clouded their minds as they sailed closer and closer to England. What were they going to do when they got to shore? Where would they start looking? Can they even succeed? Why were they even trying?

Another thought rang louder than the others, drowning them out with a determined echo. Because they had to, and if not for themselves, for their best friends.

* * *

 **A/N: The animagus process was something I came up with since I couldn't find an official one. I've read about the use of potions and spells, but they didn't seem all that difficult and permanent respectively. While the actual drawing of the array would be easy, the amount of energy it takes would make it harder to manage, at least it would in my opinion.**

 **Denmark was chosen because it was the first country that came to mind, and after checking the water currents map of the North Sea, I figured it would be believable. It wasn't supposed to have any substantial impact except that it provided a safe haven for Bartemius to recover and the currents didn't exactly favor them reaching Britain.**

 **Again, thank you for taking your time to read this and I'm sorry for the chapter being regrettably short (oh, and long author's notes).**


	10. That Escalated Quickly

**Chapter 9: That Escalated Quickly**

* * *

"Land! Oh, sweet, sweet land!"

The waters were rather rabid near sunrise and it took much longer to get to shore than either of the two expected. Sirius was far more expressive than his partner when the boat reached shallow waters and jumped out to swim the rest of the way. As tempting as it was to follow, Barty continued to row until the oars touched the sandy banks. He transfigured the boat into a pillar of sand and morphed into an owl before it sank into the water to merge with the beach.

 _Welcome back to England_ , he mused as he watched the black dog pounce around.

Hooting to catch his attention, Barty gestured west and started flying, trusting in his friend to follow.

Truth be told, neither knew what to do now that they were in England. They couldn't simply return to the wizarding world and broadcast 'Look over here! Two escapees, murderers, and known Death Eaters! Come and get us!' nor search for a rat that could very likely be hiding in a sewer for all they knew (although Barty was adamant about Pettigrew being a pet to some aging wizard).

So why not try the next best thing: figure out how to live in the meantime.

As they neared a road, Barty slowed his flight and descended to meet with Sirius.

"If we continue west, we should come across a town or a city," Barty chirped out, still bemused by the way he understood his own dialect, nevermind other animals'. It would have been helpful for when Aldwyn was still around. "But before that, I suggest we find something to eat."

"Good idea, I'm starving!"

"Alright then," he said as he lifted off into the trees in search of either edible plants or little creatures. "I'll meet you back here in five minutes." And off he went.

"Wait, aren't you going to offer to get me some?!"

"No."

"At least help me out here! I don't have any wings!" the dog barked out, chasing after the departing owl.

"At this rate, you'll scare away the prey."

"I hunted a seagull for you!"

"And I thank you for your charity."

"Ffff—!" Sirius unleashed a torrent of curses as Barty flew out of reach.

As efficient as the animal he'd become, Barty snatched a squirrel from a tree and turned it around, swiftly ending its misery. It hardly took a minute of scouting, and the instinct to prey was imprinted in his mind. Eating it raw, however, was not at all appealing, no matter what his mind told him. He didn't know any cooking spells well enough to perform without a wand, so that was out of the picture. Starting a fire, on the other hand…

Steeling his resolve, Barty swallowed the rodent and shivered. Fires draw attention. The humidity from the sea wouldn't cause the fire to spread that far, but the breeze would carry the smoke inland. It was better to stay safe than to be sorry.

With a full belly and an itchy throat, Barty flew back to the road, expecting to meet Sirius. He was disappointed by the dog's absence, but chalked it up to the man still hunting. Deciding to humor him, Barty struck down another squirrel and brought it to their intended meeting point. From there, he waited.

A car drove by, blasting muggle country music. The driver sounded like a dying thestral as he sang along, and the passenger was no better.

He waited.

A particularly strong breeze blew the scent of animal residue with it—manure and rotting corpses alike—making him twitch in irritation.

He waited.

A leaf fell right onto his head, and he couldn't be bothered to shake it off. For whatever reason, a wandering finch thought that meant it was fine to perch on him. Too unconcerned to correct it, Barty let the finch stay for ten minutes until it found something better to do.

He waited.

A squirrel scurried past him, stopped to stare at its dead relative hanging from his beak, and scurried away faster, dropping a handful of acorns.

An hour. He waited for an hour. _Where is he?!_

Wings opened and lifted him high above the ground. The squirrel that had scurried past was dashing away mad. His eyes scanned the area better than any human eye could, narrowing each time something even remotely resembled the missing animagus. The trees were well-branched out, hindering his sight from the sky. With no other choice, he ducked below the coverage and raced through the loose forest. Ears opened, eyes peeled, focus rapt.

All fruitless.

The beach was empty and so were the trees. Nowhere was the stupid Black found.

"Sirius!"

-.-.-.-.-.-

 _How did things turn out like this,_ he wondered. _No really, what in the name of Merlin happened?_

Sirius was just minding his own business after Bartemius ditched him like he was some rotten mandrake when, all of a sudden, he woke up in this big muggle contraption known as a car. Or was it a truck? He didn't know the difference. Bartemius might, not that he was there to tell him.

 _It hadn't even been a minute, dammit!_

Everything was hazy. There was a sting and then he collapsed. When he came to, he found himself in a cage with other creatures around him, shouting something about a 'zoo.' Another muggle thing, most likely. It seemed he just got out of prison only to get shipped off into another. Preferably without dementors.

"You're a weird dog, aren't you?" hissed the snake in the cage beside him. "You don't taste like one."

"What the hell?" he snarled, backing away from the snake's glass cage. "Don't lick me!"

He could have sworn the snake facepalmed, despite its lack of ability to do so. "Are all dogs idiots? I'm in a container, dumbass. I can't lick you. We snakes have this thing we do with our tongues to sense things. We can taste things without licking them." It paused and rose from its doodle of circles. "You taste like a human."

"Human?" a lemur chittered.

"Human!" an iguana belched.

"Huuuuuummmaaaaan?" a sloth echoed.

"CAAWW!" ironically screeched the parrot.

Seriously, where did these animals even come from? Did the muggles go on a round-the-world trip collecting animals on the side of the street? Do all muggles do that?

"Alright, alright, I get it! You guys hate humans!" Sirius cried out, sick of the cacophonous shouts among the animals.

"Only a little."

"Only a lot!"

"Nooooot reeeeeally."

"CAAWW!"

The snake looked ready to strangle someone. "The point is: why do you taste like a human if you smell like a dog?"

Now that had an easy answer. Since they were animals, not muggles, Sirius assumed it safe to reveal that it was "Because snakey, I'm an animagus."

The animals all stared at him—the sloth took some time to raise its head—and laughed. Hollered. Guffawed. You name it. It was loud and it was embarrassing, making Sirius more uncomfortable than he had ever been back at Hogwarts (including that one time he got caught trying to put on a corset whose origin was quite questionable, and no, he wasn't ready to share that story with anyone). Who knew animals could make such mean critics?

"What's so funny?"

The lemur, being closest to him, chimed, "How in sky's name did you, an _animagus_ , get caught by a _human_? You guys are fairy tales!"

"Yeah!" the iguana butted in. "Am I supposed to believe that the grass is green?"

"Buuuuut iiiiit iiiiis greeeeen."

"Quiet, dog. You will not tempt me with your funny words."

Sirius straightened his back indignantly. "The sloth said that, not me."

"Ahaha, very funny."

"CAAWW!"

"Iguana, ma'am, are you okay?" the lemur asked. "I think she needs some sun."

"Theeeee suuuuun wooooould beeeee niiiiice."

"CAAWW?"

The snake just shook its head and hissed, "How disappointing."

"What did you want me to say?" Sirius demanded. "You knew I was human, and when I tell you that I am, you laugh? Why ask in the first place?"

"Sky you're an idiot. Look, I asked because I thought you were some human's pet. I was wrong. But still, you have an advantage, and instead of using it, you're stuck here like the rest of us."

He retorted quickly. Why he felt the need to defend himself against the scrutiny of animals was beyond him. "The driver's a muggle. I can't just reveal that I'm human to someone who doesn't use magic."

"What's a muggle?" asked the lemur. "Is it something you eat?"

Sirius ignored the question and continued. "If they find out I'm a human, then I'm doomed."

"Good!" shouted the iguana.

"Dooooom? Thaaaat's noooot goooood…"

"My only hope is to break out in this form or wait for my partn— oh my god, I forgot about Bartemius! He doesn't know where I am!"

-.-.-.-.-.-

Barty was no longer angry. If Sirius left, then it didn't matter. He could search for the rat by himself, leaving more time to plan against Rosier…

It wasn't like Sirius to up and vanish. Something must have happened.

 _Think, what would Sirius do?_

He would have given up chasing Barty to search for his own food. He must have gotten lost… no. An hour was ample time to return and Sirius wouldn't wander that far. Barty's search brought nothing, so if anything, he was taken.

 _Or he left._ An hour was also ample time to leave him behind.

 _He doesn't gain from it,_ he reasoned, pushing that treacherous thought aside as best he could. Two pairs of eyes were better than one. Without him, Sirius was handicapped.

 _So then, what happened?_

Barty peered down at the road he was following, wings flapping against the wind in an unbroken silence. He began worrying about Sirius. The likely answer was that he got caught, but how? Only a select few knew of his animagus form, one dead and one in hiding. Unless…

If Remus Lupin said something, all would be for naught. Sirius wasn't worried about that, but then again, he probably didn't consider it.

Barty was counting on the slimmer of a chance that this was not a capture by wizards or witches. If Sirius was brought back to Azkaban, rushing in to save his neck would only end badly for him. If such an event did happen, then Barty would have no choice but to forfeit Sirius to the Dementor's Kiss.

He did not escape Azkaban just to become a mindless husk. He needed retribution. He needed justice. He needed that taste of revenge.

No, this must have been the work of muggles.

But why? Why would a muggle possibly capture Sirius? He was a shaggy black dog, so what was so interesting that a random muggle would just take him?

Or maybe it was the muggle who was the interesting one.

The sun was well past noon and steadily declining. It had been two hours since he started flying down the road, wings tired and begging for reprieve. He was moving southwest, hoping that out of the directions given, he had chosen correctly. Two hours made up for a long distance by flight. Apparition was also an option, but it wouldn't do to miss something. He wasn't even sure where he was going nor where he should be, not to mention the danger of getting caught.

Sirius would have at least resisted capture. A dog his size was bound to be a handful, so either multiple people were required or adequate preparations. Barty was willing to bet on the latter. Even the prideful Gryffindor knew when to run… hopefully.

Racking his brain for anything he could remember from his self studies on muggles, Barty came up with something akin to a potion. Tranquilizers were often used on unruly animals and were capable of forcing them asleep, usually without their knowing of its use. Tranquilizers were used by a variety of people, including park rangers, zookeepers, and illegal traders.

In any case, Barty was searching for a truck.

The road bled into a suburban area, on the outskirts of a city, branching into several streets once near enough. From where he flew to as far as he could see, no truck was visible. Just his luck.

Alright then, Barty wasn't searching for a truck. He was searching for a shaggy black dog who could be anywhere by now.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The truck stopped and the animals all quieted, except for the parrot for some odd reason. The back doors swung open and five large men stepped inside, each carrying a cage or two out. The sun was low in the sky and buildings completely surrounded the area, so Sirius deduced that he was thoroughly screwed. Bartemius had not found him yet, and would likely not find him ever. He had faith that his friend was smart and all, but not that smart.

Waiting for the opportune moment, Sirius took on a ready stance to bolt out. The doors to his cage was unlocked and he flung himself through the opening, knocking into the man holding his cage and free from his tiny prison.

"Hello! Want to be friends?" a voice called out.

Sirius didn't stop to check who said that and continued to run as fast as his feet could carry him. When he came across a fence, he curved to the left, looking for a way out. There must have been a way out, he was positively sure of that. Desperately sure of that.

It wasn't until he passed by the same rock five times that he slow down and study his surroundings. When he noticed the dog watching him struggle, he stopped.

"Welcome to your new home! Don't worry, you'll get used to it… at some point!" the silver pup, nearly grown, sang, bouncing up to him. "Are you a wolf?"

"No, I'm not."

"Oh? That's a shame. Apparently, I'm a breed mix with more wolf than dog!"

"Where the hell are we?"

"A zoo," the pup waved away. "You know, you look like a nice friend. I like nice friends. Nice friends are nice. And friendly. Say, what's your name?"

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the eccentric youth.

"Wait, let me guess. I know! It's Black!"

Sirius studied him and asked cautiously, "How did you know that?"

Instead of sensing the tension, the pup jumped around happily. "I got it right! I got it right!"

With the wagging tail, the jittery attitude, and the dense brain, Sirius understood the snake's exasperation toward dogs.

"Hey, want to play?"

"No."

"Aw. Don't be so serious! Ohh! You're serious Black! Like that wanted guy from the moving pictures!" he wagged up to him and smirked. "I'm so smart. Hey! You're serious Black and I'm Junior!"

Sirius couldn't believe his ears. "Wait, pup—"

"Junior!"

"—you—"

"Say Junior!"

Sirius stared at him impatiently. "Junior… you said that a moving picture told you that?"

The pup bounced excitedly. "That's right! The man says everyone needs to be careful of the two baddies. They killed people, did you know that? The man in the pictures said that. Scary, right?"

"Said... You're talking about the muggle thing. What did they call it? The small box with color and sound."

"Moving pictures?"

"No, not that, it was... little sight? Little vision?"

"Television?" the pup helpfully provided, sniffing the fence and skidding back alert, like it had suddenly spewed basilisk venom.

"So if the television says we're wanted, then that means not only the wizarding world, but the whole muggle population knows too," Sirius groaned, pawing his face. "Okay then, no problem. Not like I was planning to reveal myself anyway."

"Come on, Black! Let's play!"

 _Think! What would Bartemius do?_

A lumos lit up in his mind and he turned to the pup. "How good is your acting?"

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Sooo, a big black doggo, eh?"

Enlisting a pigeon to help was a good idea, if not a limited option. All the other pigeons ran at first sight of him, a natural instinct the birds were gifted with. It meant they could survive another day in a normal scenario, but Barty wasn't a normal owl. Either the pigeon before him was smart enough to realize that or he was too dumb to run.

"Yes. Have you seen anyone that fits that description?"

"I… may have. Or maybe not?"

A foot pressed against the bird's neck and pushed him against the outer wall of a building, claws tightening around its throat. "Talk, pigeon."

"You hurt me, you get no answers!"

Barty seethed and released the bird, keeping it within wing's reach. "What do you want in return?"

"Now you talk business!" it replied, not losing a hint of security. "I'm thinking grapes. Or maybe some bacon. Ooh! There was a nice fat loaf I saw the other day. Too bad someone else took it."

"You want food."

" _Human_ food. I don't want no worm or grain. Or crumb."

"I satisfy your appetite and you tell me the location of the dog," Barty said, making sure that was the deal. "Any piece of human food."

"No worm, no grain, no crumb. I want the whole thing and I want it fresh."

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

"You make it sound like it's easy," the pigeon noted wearily and gave him the stink eye. "Don't mess with me, owl. I don't do backstabbing."

"Then you better know where the dog is."

"I do! I swear it on my dead momma's life."

Barty twitched. "Is this some sort of joke to you?"

"Hey, nobody messes with my momma!" the pigeon warned, flapping its wings loudly without the intent to fly. "Never knew her though. Or maybe I did and forgot."

Everything coming out of the bird's mouth made Barty want to strangle it. It didn't help that in the animal world, killing was perfectly fine and served as the very backbone of the food chain. To combat the compelling urge to end the bird and go to the next, Barty flew off into the middle of an alley in search of the requested item.

After checking both directions for people, animals, and cameras, Barty morphed into his human form. A quick casting of self-cleaning spells and minor illusions to change his outward appearance was followed by transfiguring a stone into 'pounds,' muggle currency. It was flawed for sure; he hadn't come across muggle money in over a decade. With luck, it was enough to fool anyone long enough to leave unnoticed.

Picking the supermarket, for it's wide assortment of foods, was better than choosing a store. More people meant less attention. Hiding with the crowd allowed his face to mingle in with others, making it difficult to recall a particular one when there was a hundred to remember from. Of course, there was a risk in that. The many faces made it hard for Barty to notice if he was recognized.

He shook his head. No wizard would come here, so I should be safe. And in any case, not many would notice him after so many years if they weren't actively searching.

"That will be £2.00 please."

Barty handed over the transfigured stone and took the bread from the counter. Muggles and wizards were alike in the business of minor purchases. Barely any interaction was necessary as goods were bought, saving time and increasing efficiency.

"Here's your cha—"

The woman stepped back with eyes wide.

"You can keep the change," he said dismissively, already turning toward the exit, half worried the fake money was uncovered too quickly.

Instead of a 'thank you' or a 'come again' or a 'this is fake!' she yelled, "M-M-Murderer!" and sprayed a stinging liquid into his eyes.

 _That was unexpected._

Already, nearby guards were approaching and the customers around him were screaming. The police stationed nearby were being notified and the sirens from the market warned the entire block.

He didn't realize the muggle world was informed of his prison break and he didn't think it would have spread so quickly. That was not to mention that he should have been proclaimed dead!

Barty inwardly cursed and ran blindly out the door, plastic bag with bread gripped tightly in his hand. _This better be worth it._

Barely a week had passed since Azkaban and he sure as hell wasn't going back. Not for what waited for him in there and what needed to be done out here.

Barty covered his eyes and chanted a silent healing charm enough to see through them. It still hurt and would likely continue hurting until proper tended, but it was enough for him to avoid running into the car-filled street.

He stumbled back to the alley he had come out from with guards and arriving policemen closing in on him. A burning pain shot through his left shoulder just as he apparated away with a loud and sickening _crack!_ By the time he appeared elsewhere, his breathing was heavy, eyes were stinging, shoulder was screaming, and mind was thinking, _this bloody fcking hell better be worth it!_

-.-.-.-.-.-

Sirius was impressed by the pup's acting. Seriously, that dog can act! Even from his spot on the floor, playing dead with his feet sticking out and breathing held, he could feel the pup's cry. It reached his heart and twisted it until he felt the pain. Nevertheless, the pain was a fraud and the goal was to attract the attention of certain onlookers.

Junior—the pup demanded that he should be called that—whimpered and cried and nudged and cried some more, moving restlessly all the while. In no time at all, the visitors were ushered away as the tenders of the facility unlocked and entered the gate. Junior backed up, shuffled closer, then stepped away again from the man, leading him to his supposedly dead companion.

Sirius could not think of anything other than Bartemius's Juliet potion. It worked for him in Azkaban, so why wouldn't it work for Sirius here? Granted, he didn't have a sample of Juliet on him and there was much more people to avoid.

 _Not yet._

The man held a hand in front of his mouth, and Sirius took that time to hold his breath. 1...2...3…

He counted to twenty before the hand was pulled away. His sharp intake almost damned him, but thankfully, the man didn't notice.

"He's not breathing."

 _Not yet._

"Bring him out," another said, entering to help control Junior, who'd begun to protest at his friend being taken away. The pup deserved a medal for his insane acting skills.

 _Not yet._

Sirius was lifted up and carried by the man, still doing his best not to breath noticeably.

 _Not yet._

He opened one eye and watched as the fence gate got bigger and bigger.

 _Not yet._

The man stepped outside and gently lowered him onto a—

 _Now!_

Sirius wrenched free of the man's grip and took off sprinting.

"Good luck, serious Black!" the pup barked happily. "That was fun!"

"Thanks, Junior! You did great!"

He weaved through the crowd as fast as he could, listening to the zookeepers' shouts soften until they were well out of earshot.

He was faster than they were. Long before they broke through the crowd, he had already passed the mammal exhibit—barking out a farewell to the sloth and the lemur from earlier—and was running past the reptile one on the way out. He briefly considered stopping by to tease the snake and jeer at the iguana, but decided against it.

"Runaway dog!"

Sirius took a sharp turn away from the outstretched hands and narrowly dodged a needle-looking thing (he later learned that it was called a dart). He jumped out of the way of one diving zookeeper and ducked beneath two others, resulting in three humans stacked like pancakes while he ran free.

Screams from the reptile house rang deafeningly, making Sirius peek at what was happening. What he saw made him stop.

A boa constrictor slithered freely across the floor toward the exit, scaring the living daylights out of two boys—one portly and one scrawny—standing too close to the vanished glass. Magic was used here. Untamed and unbidden.

His eyes searched around the room for what could have performed it (certainly not the two boys) and landed on—

 _James?_

* * *

 **A/N: Sooo. I'm back, but not for long.**

 **I thank you for your patience, and I'm sorry if I don't update again. I'll try, but I can't promise anything.**

 **Also, Sirius being brought to the zoo makes no sense, but that's okay because I'll pretend it does.**


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